The Sanguinary Heresy
by SirDrakos
Summary: The Imperium broke itself in the wake of the Heresy. The damage done by the Angel Fallen was something unthinkable, and since then the threats that face the Imperium have grow further. The xenos, mutant and witch continue to assault the loyal worlds of the God-Emperor while the Eye of Terror His traitor sons plot. It is the 41st millennium, and there is only war.
1. The Sanguinary Heresy

**The Sanguinary Heresy: Paradise Lost**

 _"And so the Arch-Betrayer Sanguinius led his sons against the loyal Legions of the Emperor of Mankind, revolting against His sacred dream for Mankind's ascension. Standing with the Angel of Blood were half of the Legiones Astartes, corrupt and vile, their fears and greed exploited, unaware that they had become pawns of the Dark Gods. It was only due to the exploits of heroes and martyrs that Terra withstood the Arch-Traitor's assault. Only through sacrifice of those who remained true to His dream was the Imperium able to emerge triumphant. The cost of victory was grave indeed, resulting in Our Divine Majesty sitting upon the Golden Throne, lamenting the Paradise Lost while His Immortal Soul acts as a beacon for all His people in this Dark Millennium, because in the void of stars only the sound of laughing gods can be heard."_

* * *

 **Pre-Heresy: A Dream Ascendant**

It was over and it was done. In the early years of the thirty-first millennium, the Master of Mankind had realised His dream, and had led humanity in conquering the stars themselves. First among the Imperium's vast armies stood the Legiones Astartes, His Angels of Death who knew no fear. Each Space Marine Legion was led by one of His recovered sons, the primarchs, demigods of war who conquered the galaxy in glorious reclamation of Mankind's birthright.

But the Astartes were not alone, beside them stood the Imperial Army, unrelenting in its nearly inexhaustible numbers of soldiers and warships. Alongside them tread the mighty God-Machines and Knights of the Mechanicum, ready to lay low entire worlds that dared to defy Mankind's manifest destiny. And in the shadows lurked the Officio Assassinorum, with unfathomable weapons ready to purge those unfaithful to the Master of Mankind's dream, willing to commit atrocities that few would stomach and even fewer would ever undertake.

With such a mighty arsenal at its disposal, the Imperium recovered many worlds lost during Old Night, and during this Great Crusade the Emperor discovered His lost gene-crafted progeny scattered throughout the galaxy. Many of the worlds encountered were brought back into the arms of Terra; either voluntarily or through the use of force. Now after centuries of endless crusade, it seemed that a new age of peace was within reach.

At Ullanor, the one threat that could truly threaten the Imperium of Man was crushed. The imposing Ork empire of Urlakk Urg was brought to its knees by the will of Mankind and the martial prowess of the Astartes. With that the greenskin hordes were brought low and the Imperium's future guaranteed. It was at Ullanor where a mass Triumph was held to celebrate all those who fought and died in over two hundred years of war and to herald the golden age to come. It was here at the Triumph's apex that the Master of Mankind declared His intent to retire to Terra to conduct a secret project that was for the betterment of humanity. To lead the Great Crusade to its victorious conclusion, the Emperor chose Horus Lupercal as His successor, elevating the First Found to the rank of Warmaster and gifted with immense powers whilst burdened with heavy responsibilities.

Horus accepted the honour, renaming his Luna Wolves the Sons of Horus as a mark of their newfound prestige. However, while many of the primarchs felt that Horus was deserving of the mantle, others felt that the likes of Sanguinius or Guilliman were more suitable for the role.

With Horus as Warmaster, the Emperor departed for Terra. Accompanying the Master of Mankind were the Iron Warriors, tasked with fortifying the Imperial Palace, with Perturabo raised to the newly created position of Emperor's Praetorian. This caused confusion amongst several of the primarchs, as Perturabo was seen as an embittered siege-master who cared little for matters of state that would undoubtedly take place on the Throneworld. None were more confused, or angered, by the announcement than Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists who considered his creations superior to that of the Olympian Primarch. Dorn openly criticized his father's decision yet the Emperor was unyielding on His choice for Praetorian. Later events would prove the wisdom of this decision.

Before the Emperor could return to Terra, matters over the use of sanctioned psychic powers could no longer be ignored, with tensions escalating across the nascent Imperium. As a result, the Emperor called forth a convocation on the world of Nikaea to decide on the issue of psykers within the Imperium, specifically those within the Legiones Astartes. Many held a vehement passion against psykers, such as Leman Russ, though despite this other primarchs trusted their sons with such powers, like the Death Lord and his loyal son, First Captain Calas Typhon. Many primarchs deemed psykers as foul creatures, Russ himself swore that such powers were the very witchcraft that the Great Crusade had set out to eradicate. These charges of sorcery were laid heavily against the Thousand Sons. Some, such as Dorn, wanted the Thousand Sons disbanded for their 'sin' of wanton psychic use and acquisition of dangerous knowledge.

Despite this potentially being a grave threat to his Legion, Magnus himself stayed out of the debate, though did allow his sons to speak on their own behalf. In the end, a compromise was made and enforced by the Emperor's own authority. Under the agreement, psykers were to be trained under the aegis of the Librarius. This did little to sway the Wolf King, who remained silent to Magnus' reasoning that this was for the good, and instead returned to the Great Crusade's frontlines angry and disillusioned. After the Edict of Nikaea's proclamation, the Emperor beckoned Magnus to assist Him on Terra in whatever secret works that was to be undertaken beneath the Imperial Palace. With the matter resolved, the Great Crusade continued apace. The troubles caused by the selection of Praetorian and the Edict of Nikaea were some of the first problems to arise, but far from the last.

In the years following Horus' rise to Warmaster, other events occurred between the Legions, rifts that would have dangerous repercussions in the days to come. It was upon the world of Kharaatan that Konrad Curze of the Night Lords would be enlightened to the true monstrous nature of his brother, Vulkan.

The Lord of Salamanders had always had a dark affinity towards the use of flame-based weapons, and with such weapons he laid low the human settlements of Kharataan and the Dark Eldar foe alike, while Curze could only watch on in horror. This tension reached its head with almost fatal consequence when the Lord of the Eighteenth Legion killed a Drukhari child with his own hands for little to no reason. Curze, sickened by this baseless cruelty, reported such actions to Rogal Dorn, only to find his brother likewise indifferent to Vulkan's cruelty.

* * *

 _"They fought against father's vision, Konrad. For that they must die, I do not think Vulkan was in any wrong for what he did," said Rogal Dorn, as though he talked to a child which only infuriated the Lord of Night further._

 _"He killed a child without reason! He burned the innocent without a purpose behind it! I saw him take the life of a xenos child no older than ten years old with his own hands and did so without remorse at what he was doing. Rogal, I saw men and women surrender to him, free of their psychic chains, willing and wanting to join the Imperium. And on Vulkan's orders his sons rewarded them with flame and ruin! Mark my words, there is a darkness in him. One that could mean his doom if he does not temper it," came the enraged response from Curze, disgust thick in his voice._

 _"You criticise our brother for his darkness. Hypocrite. You, of all us, should understand something about the darkness that resides within us all, Night Haunter," Dorn_ _sneered the moniker._

 _Curze opened his mouth to respond, to defend his actions but Dorn's face was uncaring and unmoved, a face that could not be convinced that the terrible things Curze had done had been for the betterment of the Imperium. Grisly, morbid, soul-shattering duty it was, but undeniably necessary for the Great Crusade to continue and to keep the newborn empire from crumbling under its own weight. Dorn's face was shockingly similar to the look Vulkan sported when he strangled the child. It was a look born of cruelty, nothing else, for only the truly cruel could look upon the actions that had occurred without a single shred of remorse. Curze had done many things, so many terrible things, but never in carrying out his many sins did he take satisfaction in them. And that satisfaction had been on his Nocturnean brother's face and Curze could see that such dreaded satisfaction had taken root in Dorn's hearts._

 _"You mourn a xenos child? You mourn those too weak to stand with us? Perhaps it is you that is at fault here, Konrad. Not Vulkan. Vulkan is only all too aware of the Dark Eldar's debauchery, and as for the settlers well… what do their lives matter in the end?" came the condescending response from Dorn's lips, as if Curze was the one at fault here for the crime of compassion._

 _Curze said nothing, merely looking upon his brother in disappointment and for a second saw something else entirely. His head flared with pain, nose dripping blood down unto his armour and that was when he saw it. Standing before him was not a demigod clad in his resplendent finery but a lord of rot and decay, a herald of plague and death that would cause the suffering of countless billions. Curze shook his head, supressing the urge to slay his brother. The visions were getting worse, more unpredictable and violent. The Lord of Night let slip an animal snarl but turned away, knowing he needed to inform Horus of this vileness for Vulkan could not be allowed to go unpunished for his unwarranted actions. As for Rogal Dorn, the Lord of the Imperial Fists watched his brother leave, detesting what he perceived to be weakness and cowardice to do what was necessary._

* * *

Other such disputes occurred as the Great Crusade continued, as even the ever optimistic Fulgrim and recently dour Rogal Dorn almost clashed in the Cheraut System. Fulgrim was always a primarch of the people, the idea of perfection and kindness moulded into one being that longed to share his enthusiasm with all of Mankind. And so during the Compliance of Cheraut the Phoenician became disgusted with the unrelenting massacre of Cheraut's surrendered peoples, the Imperial Fist Primarch unwilling to show mercy to those he deemed beneath him.

While Fulgrim tried to bring Cheraut to a peaceful compliance with the grace and charisma that he known for, his brother saw fit to brutalise the population with tactics his sons were now becoming known for. Fulgrim watched on in shock and disgust as the Imperial Fists slaughtered the populace. Tensions reached a boiling point, almost causing the sons of Fulgrim to commit the unspeakable act of fratricidal combat against their cousins but Fulgrim was able to calm his legionnaires, and instead of battle the Emperor's Children left the Imperial Fists to their unforgivable work. The Third Primarch swore that the Emperor would hear of this and that a reckoning would soon follow. Such threats fell upon deaf ears as Rogal Dorn had already chosen his side for the coming conflict that would soon split the Imperium in two.

During these instances of conflict amongst the brotherhood of primarchs, the Warmaster's own part in the Crusade proved more fruitful, though there was still danger waiting for him. The Sons of Horus had encountered a civilisation of humans that had somehow survived the terrors of Old Night. They were known as the Interex; a highly advanced society that worked alongside several alien races in a hegemonic confederation. Their technology was more advanced than that of the Imperium in several fields, most notably in non-military ways. Their focus as a civilisation was not to wage war as the Imperium did but rather to extinguishing a force known simply as 'Kaos'.

Despite this being against the wishes of his father, Horus decided to attempt peaceful negotiations with the Interex. He was intrigued by what he saw, and hoped to bring them into the arms of the Emperor peacefully so that they may work alongside their fellow humans once more. However, some cruel twist of fate was played and the Warmaster was attacked, harmed by an assassin wielding a blade soon known to be an anathame, a blade bearing the corrupting touch of Chaos. And the wound upon the primarch was something that even the Sixteenth Legion Apothecaries could not heal.

The Warmaster fell into a fitful state, and the Sons of Horus roared at the treachery of what had occurred. A retaliation force was all but ready to exterminate the Interex, in spite of there being little proof that it was one of their own agents that tried to kill Lupercal. It took the rest of the Mournival to calm the fury of Ezekyle Abaddon, and the explanation of High Chaplain Erebus of the Word Bearers to fully explain what had happened to their gene-sire.

Erebus had been detached to the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet with a contingent of Word Bearers since the Triumph of Ullanor to fight alongside and to advise the new Warmaster, and the High Chaplain found himself worried by what he saw. The corruption of Eugen Temba, who was felled by Horus when he succumbed to some form of 'xenos-plague', reminded him of the warnings of Lorgar and Kor Phaeron of a threat that was similar to the Interex's description of 'Kaos'. With their mood calmed Erebus, alongside the representation of the Interex, explained to the Mournival what had become of their gene-sire and what had to be done to save him.

* * *

 _"You are telling me a concept of disorder laid our father low, Erebus?" asked Abaddon, his face scrunched in confusion, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "Is this some form of joke?"_

 _"Sadly no, and in a sense, Ezekyle, you are actually quite correct. These 'things', these false gods are the personification of such ideals. Mankind's fears reflected back into their faces, haunting our species for millennia, ever bringing out the worst in us, exploiting us. My lord father has been aware of such horrors for some time but my knowledge of them is fairly recent," Erebus responded, hand touching the Book of Lorgar chained to his waist._

 _"Who cares what their origin is," said 'Little' Horus Aximand, desperation tinging his voice. "Can you save him? Please tell me you can save him, Erebus."_

 _Erebus looked at the faces of these lords of war and proud representatives of Mankind's strength. Their faces were wrapped with fear at the thought of losing their father and yet despite the situation, Erebus found himself calm. The Imperium needed Horus and his sons, and he would save the First Found for what was to come. Erebus' eyes burned with determination. The kind of determination that could defy even fate and the machinations of false gods. By the God-Emperor's Will and with His Blessing, Erebus would save Horus Lupercal._

 _"Yes," came the response from the High Chaplain. "But I shall require aid; the stubborn kind."_

 _"You've come to right place for that, Chaplain," said Tarik Torgaddon, with a wry grin upon his face._

 _And with that, hope was renewed and the Mournival began the process of setting their father free._

* * *

Erebus and his Mournival cousins set out to purge the affliction that beset Horus. With the aid of the Interex, Erebus was able to discover the true nature of the Chaos blade that struck the Primarch, and what it was meant to do. It would leave Horus trapped in the clutches of what could only be described as daemons, something Erebus confirmed.

At first, Erebus privately mused that he would have to slay Horus to ensure that he did not fall to Chaos, but upon using his latent psyker abilities, Erebus sensed Horus' willpower was beyond the daemons' expectation and his dedication to his father's dream was unwavering. Inspired by the primarch's example and unwilling to leave Lupercal in the grasp of Chaos, Erebus, alongside the Mournival, began an ancient ritual to expel the corruption from the Warmaster.

In the midst of the ritual the Chaos Gods sent their firstborn son to prove his worth to them, loathed to be denied their champion. Be'lakor the Dark Master attempted to stop the ceremony and slipped through the shadows to avoid any and all confrontation until he came to the primarch's chamber where Horus Lupercal resided in a comatose state.

The Mournival left the ritual to face greater daemon, leaving it to Erebus to free their father's soul from the Fell Powers' grasp. The Colchisian Chaplain found the Warmaster's soul besieged by daemons who whispered heretical lies and misleading half-truths, Erebus reminded Horus of his work and that of his father. Erebus' words touched the heart and mind of the Sixteenth Son, reminding him that he was not fighting alone, that there would always be those to rise against tyranny and oppression.

And so Horus Lupercal's soul defeated the daemons with its pure nobility and returned to its body, and the Warmaster rose once more.

* * *

 _"Bastard!" roared Abaddon as he charged the nightmare-thing that had nearly interrupted Erebus' exorcism. "You bloody, motherless bastard. Get away from him! Get away from my father!"_

 _The thing came from the shadows, horned and bat-winged, reeking of dreams lost and countless slaughtered. It attempted to antagonise the legionnaires but did not get very far as the Mournival doused the beast in bolter fire. Which did little to it unfortunately, the wounds healing as fast as they appeared. So as always it came down to blades and skill. And Abaddon would not be found wanting in that regard. The other Mournival members had been thrown about the chamber but they rose to join their brother in combat, Abaddon's stubborn defiance giving them strength to return to the fight. The warp-predator turned towards the chanting Erebus who sat in the centre of a chalk-drawn Aquila, an enraged snarl on its face and a nightmare blade clasped in its hand._

 _Abaddon swung his own blade and for seconds the pair duelled. The daemon was his better, Abaddon knew this. But already Garviel was on his feet and launching himself towards the monster, which looked surprised by the Mournival's sudden recovery. Tarik threw himself onto the monster's back, his single remaining arm wrapped around its throat. The beast seemed undaunted and threw the three transhumans off with ease._

 _ **"I am the Son of Chaos, Scion of the Four Kings,"** the gargoyle thing boasted as it drew its blade close to Abaddon's throat. " **You will die here just like your father. If he will not be the chosen servant of my Ruinous Lords then he will be their plaything!"**_

 _Instead of despair on the Astartes' faces, the creature instead saw hope. Why? They should be trembling in fear for their father would now be dead and there was little they could do to stop him. Then Be'lakor could no longer hear the Chaplain's chanting and he turned to face the new threat. No matter that he had lived for millennia uncounted and had fought in wars that none now remembered and was the favourite of the Primordial Annihilator, Be'lakor turned too slow and the Talons of Horus burst through the daemon prince's chest, and he felt a demigod's breath next to his ear as the primarch dragged the daemon prince closer._

 _"Tell them they failed," Horus Lupercal swore, his tone that of unforgiving thunder despite how quiet the words truly were. "Tell your masters that we will never become their slaves, that we will never bow to their corruption. Tell them that this wolf and his cubs have sharp fangs indeed."_

 _With that Horus fired the Talon's storm bolter and turned the daemon into nothing more than a wet paste as its death scream echoed through the chamber. That and the bellows of the Dark Gods denied._

* * *

With himself free of their grasp, Horus stood proud and ready to defend Mankind from this new threat. He postponed any further negotiations with the Interex but thanked them for their aid, and sent Erebus and his force of Word Bearers back to Lorgar to reveal to him this news. The Sons of Horus then set a course towards Terra, Horus hoping that his father would have the answers to the threats that now appeared from the shadows. But very little emitted from Terra, leaving only screams that pierced the veil of the churning warp. Horus prayed that this was due to his survival not being accounted for by his new foes but when he got to the safety of Sol and received reports of what was happening across the frenzied Imperium, he found the truth to be far more horrifying by far...

 **Treachery of The Angel Fallen**

The Angel Sanguinius, Lord of Ninth Legion, had cast aside his father's teaching. He claimed that the Emperor would leave humanity stifled in the dark, unable to endure, left vulnerable to the myriad of threats that still lingered. Sanguinius declared that only through the dark knowledge that he had discovered could Mankind rise up and thrive in understanding the 'true' universe and not the false image his creator projected. The Ninth Primarch was not alone in rebelling against the Emperor. Alongside Sanguinius stood Lion El'Jonson of the Dark Angels, Ferrus Manus of the Iron Hands, and Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists.

The Imperium was wracked in fear of such revelations, that four Legions stood in rebellion against Emperor, and many believed that this great heresy was born of Sanguinius' anger to not have been chosen as Warmaster. Even more heart-breaking was news that the four Traitor Legions had purged their ranks of any potential loyalists on Isstvan III. It was only by chance and determination that one ship, _The Sisypheum_ , survived and took news back to the Imperium, warning the Throne-loyal forces of this dire new threat and allowing them a chance to end the rebellion before it could spread.

* * *

 _"He was… my brother, my closest brother. I thought I knew him as well as I knew myself. Oh Sanguinius, I would have protected you from all harm. You needed not fear, but in the end your fear was what let them claim you. I should have known… what brother does not know the fear that consumes his own? What brother could have been so blind to another's torment?"_ \- Extracted from the personal writings of Warmaster Horus Lupercal, Lord of the Sixteenth Legion.

* * *

Horus found himself torn by what had happened and knew who was responsible: the Forces of Chaos. Horus demanded to know why the Emperor had left His sons in the dark about these abominations and it took the cool words of Lorgar, who knew of the gods from his upbringing on Colchis, alongside the knowledge of Magnus, whom the Emperor saved from their temptations, to sway him. The Chaos Gods thrive on the fear their name creates, as well that the knowledge of them spreads their corrupting influence. The Emperor believed that in denying the gods their own existence then they would gutter out in the dark of ignorance. It was a sound theory and may have worked if not for the tenacity of the Ruinous Powers.

It was believed that Horus was to be their original avatar and champion but with the sway of Erebus and the knowledge that he knew to combat them, they turned to another. To the Dark Gods, Sanguinius was an excellent second choice to be their Champion as the Angel of Blood had close ties to many of his brothers meaning that it should be relatively easy for him to sway them into the arms of Chaos. This coupled with Sanguinius' charisma and being one of the more beloved primarchs across the Imperium made him perfect to be the one to set it aflame in the fires of civil war.

And so the Ruinous Powers fanned the embers of fear in Sanguinius' heart, the fear of what his angelic wings meant and how he, a symbol of faith, existed in what the Emperor claimed to be a godless universe. This fear coupled with the flaw in his own genetic line drove Sanguinius to desperate madness in his attempts to justify his own existence. The forbidden knowledge he found turned him into the Champion of the Primordial Annihilator, the Arch-Traitor of the Imperium, the Angel Fallen. And thus Sanguinius became the Fell Gods' chosen warlord to usurp the throne of the Master of Mankind and become emperor of an Imperium Chaotica.

Just as Horus arrived to the Throneworld, learning of the Isstvan Atrocity and the warp storms affecting the galaxy in an intensity not seen since Old Night, a new fleet commanded by Ahzek Ahriman arrived to the Sol System, bearing despairing news. This fleet was battle-scarred, carrying the survivors of Prospero, victims of Leman Russ' slaughter as it seemed the Wolf King had decided to settle the debt between him and the sons of Magnus. He claimed that the planet was a black mark on the Imperium that had to be purged, but instead of being thanked, Leman Russ was cursed and labelled traitor. The Emperor himself was aghast at what His Sixth Son had done, while Magnus could only swear vengeance through his own tears upon Russ and his untamed Wolves for what they had done to Magnus' homeworld and people. Horus, who was certain that the situation could be dealt with swiftly, now began to realize the true extent of the corruption in the Imperium as well as how insidious the Gods of Chaos were.

It was at this time Perturabo had returned from his own trial of a full-fledged uprising on Olympia. The world has become influenced by a strange affliction that Perturabo could only assume was of xenos origin. He returned to his homeworld to save it from this infection, and was forced to bathe half of it in fire to cleanse it, taking the lives of many innocent. Head hung in shame, Perturabo presented himself to the Emperor for judgment but the Emperor absolved Perturabo of this crime for He knew the true origin of the affliction and informed His Praetorian of who was behind it.

With his temperament enraged and desiring revenge upon these powers, Perturabo swore to see that all who betrayed or attacked the Imperium would die without mercy. But as a result of the rebellion on Olympia, Perturabo had just missed the opportunity to join the Retribution Armada that had departed for the Isstvan System. Though initially frustrated, this would turn out to be a blessing in disguise and having the Praetorian on Terra would have far-reaching consequences in the years to come.

Seven Legions arrived to Isstvan to put an end to Sanguinius' heresy. First came the full might of the Death Guard, Mortarion eager to quash all who would defy his father. Alpharius commanded the lion's share of the Twentieth Legion, committed to preserving the Emperor's dream. Next came the Ultramarines, and their presence bolstered the Armada's morale because with XIII and the many legionnaires within it how could the traitors defy them?

The presence of Vulkan and Corax was an unwelcome one as their Legions held dark reputations, one of unstable gene-seed and the other the brutality of fire. But such faults were cast aside due to the situation and so they were welcomed for the battle to come. Fulgrim's sons and the White Scars were next to appear and some feared the enmity between these two Legions would cause a tension in the ranks, but it seemed the two primarchs had managed to quash such attitudes, despite the smirk which seemed present on Jaghatai Khan's face during the war council.

Confusion lingered among the Imperials as the traitors' void-fleets had somehow vanished, nowhere to be seen, but it was known that the rebel legionnaires themselves were entrenched on Isstvan V. Wary of a trap, the Throne-loyal forces decided that three Legions would be the ones to secure a landing zone for the others to follow. And so it was Mortarion, Alpharius and Fulgrim that would form the first wave to make planetfall. Mortarion volunteered due to the kind of trench-breaking warfare that was to be expected suited his Legion's tactics; Alpharius for his ability to exploit any weaknesses in the traitor lines that would cause confusion amongst the traitors; and Fulgrim who longed long to kill Sanguinius for his betrayal, for once they were as close as brothers could be.

So the three demigods of war made planetfall with their legionnaires to punish their wayward kin and the skies of Isstvan V burned in their wake as drop-pods and dropships filled with warriors burning with righteous indignation descended to the black sands of the Urgall Depression. Many Astartes died before they ever reached the ground, their drop-pods and dropships destroyed by traitor anti-aircraft cannons. When the three Legions landed, they fought against their treacherous kin and the true extent of their brothers' corruption made itself known. Those who sided with Sanguinius had become something truly corrupt, gone was the image that the Emperor had for His sons, replaced instead by the worst nightmares Mankind had ever dreamt.

The sons of Ferrus Manus fought like mad berserkers, their own inherent Medusan rage made more potent by the Blood God's influence, driving the Iron Hands to slaughter with abandon. The Iron Tenth fought as the vanguard for this heresy, revelling in all the blood spilt and the skulls collected as trophies, uncaring of their own casualties. Ferrus Manus fought on the front-lines alongside his sons, challenging Fulgrim to face him. The Gorgon hefted _Forgebreaker_ , a gift given long ago by his once most favoured brother, and his hands of iron ran hot with blood.

The Dark Angels had once been the paragons of noble chivalry, but now killed with a lover's pleasure. Each kill gave them not the accomplished sense of duty but rather the relish of experiencing the murder of their own cousins. Each death dealt was a thrill; each wound taken was a pleasure-filled luxury enhanced by the Dark Prince's caress. Sighs left scarred lips as their own limbs were blown off by bolter fire or bodies bisected by power swords, their maddened gleeful laughter echoing over the battlefield. Such was their corruption.

Rogal Dorn and his sons had transformed from once stoic and honourable warriors to now being bloated and malformed, acting as carriers of many foul sicknesses and plagues. Rot had taken many of them, foul ichor mingling with their blood and giving them endurance to pain never before imagined. Rogal Dorn's personal chainsword _Storm's Teeth_ had become corroded with rust and clotted with disease-ridden waste yet the weapon still worked and reaped a heavy toll against loyalist Space Marines.

But worst of all were the Blood Angels. Gone were their nobility and angelic beauty, gone were the warriors that once were considered the equals of the beloved XVI. Now they were daubed in vigils of Ruin, screaming prayers to the Primordial Annihilator as they killed. Alongside them fought monsters, wild-eyed beasts, which to the horror of the loyalists were revealed to be Blood Angels themselves, or at least had been before allowing daemons to dwell in their flesh. Many had wings burst from their back, in cruel imitation of the flaw that drove their primogenitor mad, while their hunger for blood rivalled that of the Iron Hands.

For hours the two forces faced each other and in that time, the loyalists were able to establish a landing zone for the second wave, though they would bitterly regret that by day's end. The traitors' heavy artillery and anti-aircraft emplacements were eventually destroyed. Fulgrim informed his brothers waiting in orbit and soon enough the White Scars, Salamanders, Ultramarines and Raven Guard deployed to the landing zones, fortifying them upon arrival. The Death Guard, Alpha Legion and Emperor's Children, weary after a long day of heavy fighting and in need of reinforcement and resupply, withdrew to the landing zones to rendezvous with their reinforcements.

What should have been the death-knell of the rebellion instead turned into one of its greatest victories as the White Scars, Salamanders, Ultramarines and Raven Guard opened fire upon their former allies, slaughtering them with ease, killing thousands of legionnaires within minutes.

* * *

 _Fulgrim ran, dirt clogging his helm, forcing him to discard it. It fell to the black earth with a thud. His own transhuman muscles burned with effort and pain. The pain pulsed from the wound he had acquired from his duel with Ferrus and despite his premiere skill with a blade, Fulgrim had almost died facing his blood-crazed brother. The bastard almost took Fulgrim's skull with the weapon Fulgrim gave him all those years ago beneath the Urals. But the worst pain was that of his sons fighting their cousins. It was something that they should never have had to do._

 _Beyond the hill he could see the Ultramarines, those blue-clad cowards who were doing little to defend him and his sons from the fire of the Blood Angels._

 _"This is Fulgrim of the Emperor's Children, fire upon the Blood Angels! That is a direct order! Fire upon the-"_

 _Fulgrim dived for cover, saved by his own reflexes, as the Ultramarines did open fire only it was upon him and his sons._

* * *

The subtle gambit paid off and the traitors revealed their true allegiance as the opening salvoes halved the Emperor-sworn forces, though the loyalists were able to kill one Traitor Primarch in return. Jaghatai Khan was slain in the killing fields by Mortarion, before the Warhawk could lay low the Phoenician. Still this mattered little as they were nonetheless overwhelmed, and the loss of one rebel Legion sent into disarray did not stem the tide of traitors eager to spill blood. And the victory Mortarion achieved was short-lived as Rogal Dorn cornered his Barbaran brother and slew the Death Lord who was wounded during his fight with Jaghatai. The Death Guard did not lose cohesion like the White Scars did upon the death of their gene-sire, thanks purely to First Captain Calas Typhon who rallied his brothers, not allowing their grief and anger to override their senses.

And in high orbit, the traitors emerged from their hidden recesses within the warp, safe for they were chosen by the gods, and with the aid of their recently revealed allies they were able to tear apart the Imperial fleet above. It was only by great sacrifice and the killing power of the Terminus Est alongside the chaotic confusion among the White Scars caused by their primarch's death did the loyalists escape, and send word back to the Throneworld of the treachery that had happened. The battle that took place on Isstvan V would forever be known as the Dropsite Massacre. Sanguinius' master plan had seen three Imperial Legions nearly wiped out, one Loyalist Primarch confirmed dead, while rumours of Alpharius being killed as well were whispered but never proven in the battle's immediate aftermath, and over two hundred thousand loyalist legionnaires were slain in a single day.

Horus quickly retaliated, ordering the World Eaters and Word Bearers to invade and cripple the Realm of Ultramar. The Warmaster knew that Guilliman's Five Hundred Worlds would in time become a fortified holdfast of traitor activity and would become their greatest source of weapons, munitions and manpower if left unmolested. Lorgar had predicted the order and had amassed his Word Bearers, alongside three recently constructed Abyss-class kingships forged in secret with the Mechanicum. The Warmaster planned for the two very different primarchs to offset each other weaknesses and complement their strengths. It was hoped that Angron would contain Lorgar's zeal while the Urizen would calm Lord of the Red Sands' infamous temper and battle-thirst.

Unfortunately for the Imperium, Sanguinius and Guilliman had predicted such an attack, and the bulk of the Ultramarines had been redeployed to Ultramar to prevent its destruction. Guilliman and his Ultramarines were able to halt the XII and XVII, though at great cost. Guilliman sacrificed dozens of worlds within his domain to form the Ruinstorm that encompassed Ultramar, allowing none but those sworn to Sanguinius to arrive and depart as they please. The act of sacrificing untold billions of citizens he was sworn to protect began to drive the Battle-King of Macragge to grief-ridden despair, his guilty conscience combating with a hungry ambition that was being fuelled by the Dark Powers.

As a result of the Ruinstorm, the Word Bearers and World Eaters were trapped within Ultramar, but so too were the bulk of the XIII who remained to prevent their Realm's immense industrial base from being destroyed by the loyalists. Despite the assault of two Loyalist Legions, supplies nonetheless continued to be delivered to the Arch-Traitor and his armies for the entirety of the Heresy. Though Sanguinius' supply and logistics were secured, and two Throne-loyal Legions isolated from the rest of the Imperium, the Arch-Betrayer lost his greatest asset: Guilliman and most of the XIII. Only a large contingent of Ultramarines commanded by First Master Marius Gage fought alongside the Angel Fallen for the entirety of the Sanguinary Heresy.

 **The Path to the Throneworld**

Three Legions shattered at Isstvan, the Thousand Sons' homeworld razed to the ground and their Legion reduced to a fraction of its former size, and roughly half of the Imperial Army and Mechanicum had forsworn their oaths to the Emperor in favour of Sanguinius. Mars itself had fallen victim to Sanguinius' madness, with the Red Planet split between those who believed the Emperor to be the Omnissiah and those who did not. Those hereteks who dabbled in various extremes of tech-heresy formed the Dark Mechanicum led by the brilliantly enigmatic but highly dangerous Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. The Angel Fallen looked to be on the cusp of victory. All the Arch-Betrayer had to do was marshal those loyal to him and make way to Terra and override Perturabo's incomplete defences.

But it is said that the greatest enemy of Chaos is Chaos itself and this was proven true during the Heresy. The Traitor Legions, especially those chosen to serve a particular facet of the Primordial Annihilator, pursued their own objectives and desires, only occasionally being commanded by their titular leader Sanguinius. Their contradictory motivations caused the rebellion's momentum to slow to a crawl for much of the civil war, allowing Perturabo to fortify the Sol System to resist the encroaching storm.

The Iron Hands attacked any and all Imperial forces that they came across, reaping a heavy tally on loyalists across the galaxy. The Imperial Fists, seeking to prove themselves against their hated rivals, attacked Iron Warrior Fortress Worlds one after another, using their putrid gifts and near-unrivalled mastery of siege warfare to overrun Imperial defences, though the VII suffered heavy casualties as a result. The Lion's get became obsessed with attacking densely populated worlds, charming them with their falsehood of honour before taking their lives in ever more decadent ways.

This continued until the Dark Angels invaded the Webway to hunt down the Eldar for their patron god. Corvus Corax led his sons back to their homeworld, taken there by the whispers of the God of Change, whose lies had enticed Corax and convinced him that the path to immortality and correcting his gene-line's rampant mutation resided deep in the mines of Deliverance. Vulkan simply burned world after world, but those closest to the Lord of Drakes could tell he was troubled, born of the confusion of what he was, as well as how that would affect his own desires to otherworldly ascension. The White Scars, still reeling from their primarch's death on Isstvan, were redirected by Sanguinius to hunt down the surviving elements of the Shattered Legions, specifically the Death Guard in retribution for Mortarion's slaying of Jaghatai. Though this prevented a majority of the V from fighting alongside Sanguinius during much of the Heresy, the Arch-Traitor deemed it worth the cost as the White Scars prevented the three Legions shattered at Isstvan from uniting and reforming, as well as limiting the threat they posed to the traitors' principal fleets.

As for Leman Russ, after the Burning of Prospero and declaration of allegiance to Sanguinius, the Wolf King departed for the Great Storm located in the galactic north, soon to be known forevermore as the Eye of Terror. He was accompanied by his Thirteenth Great Company, veterans of hundreds of campaigns and utterly loyal to their king. It has been speculated that Russ did so to accumulate the power necessary to confront and kill Magnus the Red in their inevitable confrontation that would take place during the Heresy's last battle. And Russ would acquire these powers, at great cost. Prior to his departure, the Sixth Primarch ordered his sons to spread across the galaxy in their great companies and ensure the Arch-Betrayer reached Terra. As a result the Space Wolves were one of the Angel Fallen's more dependable allies, though none could compete with the Ultramarines led by Marius Gage who were able to resist the dark desires that tempted them. The Ultramarines' First Master followed Sanguinius' orders without hesitation and began to view the Ninth Primarch as a sort of surrogate father in Guilliman's absence.

Soon enough the Dark Angels returned from their foray into the Webway, changed and corrupted far more than what they had been on Isstvan V. Lion El'Jonson had ascended to the rank of Daemon Prince of Slaanesh. After his ascension and return to real-space, the Lion sailed to his homeworld of Caliban, eager to tear it asunder. Though for what reason this is unknown to many in the Inquisition's learned circles, even to this day. Still, the Lion's ascension to daemonhood showed the true level of the traitors' deplorable nature that was quickly taking root throughout the Fallen Legions.

Though the Imperium reeled from the colossal military disaster that was the Dropsite Massacre, this did not prevent some from taking the fight to the traitors. The Death Guard, driven to avenge their father, continuously assaulted the Arch-Traitor's exposed flanks, threatening to bisect the traitors' forces in two, but after Sanguinius unleashed the frenzied White Scars upon them, the XIV were unable to continue their pincer movements but would go on to hold the attention of a majority of the Fifth Legion's brotherhoods for the remainder of the Heresy.

The Alpha Legion, bloodied but not crippled, initiated galactic-wide sabotage, infiltration and guerrilla warfare against the traitors, assassinating rebel commanders and plaguing traitor logistics, as well as instigating mass revolts amongst the Traitor Imperial Army. Only a third of the Emperor's Children survived Isstvan V, but nonetheless harassed and bloodied the traitors every step of the way during their drive towards Terra, though rarely did so as a united force, preferring small, highly mobile strike forces.

Though every Legion loyal to the Emperor contributed in some way to slowing down the Arch-Traitor's offensives, it was the scions of Konrad Curze who most openly stalled Sanguinius' offensives. The Night Lords had assembled in full force to take part in the Retribution Armada but had answered the call just too late to take part in what would become the Dropsite Massacre. As the Shattered Legions of the Death Guard, Alpha Legion, and Emperor's Children fractured, largely becoming disorganized and isolated, it was the Night Lords who engaged the Blood Angels and their allies head on, carving deep wounds into Sanguinius' armies and fleets. Though Sanguinius won most of the engagements against the Night Haunter, Curze cared little, his only goal was to buy Terra time to prepare for the onslaught to come. And buy time he did. Imperial analysts hypothesise that the actions the Lord of Night and his sons carried out gave Horus, Magnus and Perturabo years to fortify the Throneworld. Entire Traitor Space Marine companies fell to the talons of the VIII, countless Army regiments butchered and their corpses put on display to successfully unnerve their comrades.

But as the Heresy drudged onwards, the VIII and other Imperial forces were pushed ever backwards towards the Segmentum Solar. To make matters worse, Leman Russ had returned from the Eye of Terror, empowered by whatever fell gods resided there, and recalled his sons to his side once more. Further detrimental to the Imperial cause, was the arrival of Roboute Guilliman from the Ruinstorm-enclosed Five Hundred Worlds. The Lord of Ultramar had successfully prevented the Alpha Legion from freeing the XII and XVII, killing Alpharius in personal combat on the world of Eskrador and this time the death of the Last Primarch was no rumour but fact, the body of Alpharius positively identified and paraded through the Honour of Macragge as a trophy. With the Space Wolves and Ultramarines now whole once more and bolstering his main fleets, the Arch-Traitor began the final push into the Imperium's heartland. Leman Russ defeated the Night Lords at Yarant, shattering them and preventing their reinforcement of Terra, while Sanguinius himself led the massive campaign against the loyalists defending Beta-Garmon.

Despite years of preparation, Beta-Garmon soon fell to the IX and XIII after months of harrowing battle. The defenders fought to the last man, trying to turn Sanguinius' tactical victory into a costly strategic defeat, but the Angel Fallen overcame the defenders and their tactics, securing the world considered the Gateway to Sol after months of combat. With the twin victories of Yarant and Beta-Garmon, Sanguinius called for his allies to gather for the assault on Sol. Soon enough the Nine Traitor Legions were assembled, ready to cast down the Emperor from His Throne.

Ever since news of the Dropsite Massacre reached Terra, Horus, Magnus and Perturabo knew that the situation was dire. All that could be done was to prepare for what was to come and called for their sons to aid them in this endeavour. Countless millions of Terran mortals were called to honour their oaths to the Emperor, drafted into the Imperial Army. Mars, torn apart by the civil war, had finally been brought to heel by Iron Warriors led by Triarchs Kydomor Forrix and Erasmus Golg, though the price paid had been very high.

To make matters worse, the Dark Mechanicum de facto leader Belisarius Cawl had escaped the Martian Schism's final battles, joining forces with Sanguinius in Beta-Garmon and revealing to the Ninth Primarch terrible weapons that would reap havoc across Terra during the Heresy's final months. A flicker of hope revealed itself prior to the traitors' arrival to Sol in the form of the Alpha Legion, led by their primarch. The 'confirmed' report of Alpharius' demise on Eskrador now revealed itself to be an Ultramarine deception. The Twentieth Primarch led the remnants of his Legion to Terra, reinforcing the Throneworld as much as they were able in what would become Mankind's darkest hour.

 **The Siege of Terra**

And so it was after several long years since the Heresy's violent birth at Isstvan, that the civil war reached its final stage. The Nine Traitor Legions arrived in all their horrid might, ready to seize the empire they had helped build and then subsequently torn apart in their pursuit of power.

The Traitor Legions and their allies broke through the many defences erected by Praetorian Perturabo. The augur relays of Pluto, the Jovian Moon shipyards, the fortress-littered Asteroid Belt: all fell to the Arch-Betrayer and his hordes. After thirty days of system-wide void-warfare and conquering the various Solar Colonies, the rebels had finally arrived to Terra. Hundreds of billions of men and women looked up into the heavens and saw only death encroaching on them.

Luna fell to the traitors' assault and soon enough the Iron Hands and Blood Angels captured the Lion's Gate and Eternity Wall Spaceports respectively, allowing the traitors to land en masse on the Throneworld's surface. The Siege of Terra had finally begun.

The Iron Hands charged forward against the walls of the Imperial Palace, uncaring of those lost while behind them the Imperial Fists brought with them the many foul devices of Rogal Dorn, including the Sky Fortress which rained steel and fire upon the loyalists. The Sky Fortress, built specifically by Dorn to break through the orbital defences of Terra, ravaged huge swathes of Mankind's Cradle. It was thanks only to the Legio Mortis, redeployed to Terra following the successful conclusion of the Schism of Mars, was the foul thing brought down. As it fell it collapsed upon several Chapters of the Ultramarines, burning them in the fires of judgment. However, this did little to stem the flood of traitors and daemons. They loyalists were outnumbered, their forces thinly stretched throughout the Imperial Palace, and the ever firing barrage of high-explosive artillery continued for weeks on end, damaging Perturabo's defences. Every day the traitors tightened the noose around the loyalists' necks. The Warmaster's peerless leadership, the Praetorian's masterfully constructed defensive works, the Crimson King's psychic prowess, and the Hydra Lord's forays into the traitors' weak spots staved off Imperial collapse.

But not all was going well for the traitors. Casualties were skyrocketing, the Dark Angels had left the siege of the Palace to sate their hedonistic hungers against Terra's populace, and far more prevented the traitors from seizing victory. Sanguinius called upon more and more of the daemonic to aid him, their numbers swarming loyalist lines. As the traitors reached the Eternity Gate and began to assail this last great formidable bulwark, word reached the Angel Fallen that caused the Arch-Betrayer to grow desperate.

Three Loyal Legions had emerged from the warp, eager to spill traitor blood. The Emperor's Children, led by their sorrowed gene-sire, had recently united their Legion in full for the first time since the Dropsite Massacre and were going to make a last suicidal charge against the traitors to help alleviate pressure on Terra's defenders. But luckily for the Imperium, the Emperor's Children were joined by the recently arrived World Eaters and Word Bearers, fresh from their wars in the Ruinstorm which they had mysteriously escaped from. Though all three Legions were greatly reduced and bloodied, none hesitated in heading towards the Throneworld to save the Emperor.

* * *

 _"Traitors! Seeking my father's blood!? Vengeance has come to spill yours in return. Like the high-riders of old, they seek to shackle and oppress Mankind! And we will gladly meet them in battle and tear them limb from limb. Warriors of the Twelfth, Seventeenth and Third Legions, prepare for battle!"_ \- Transmission from Angron, Primarch of the World Eaters, just before planetfall.

* * *

The loyalists attacked the traitors' poorly defended rear, cutting through the rebel armada in their drive to reach Terra's surface. The traitor lines buckled against the assault of the three Legions, each of them having honed their ability for combat through either the Ruinstorm or the hordes of daemons sent to stall them. The three Loyalist Legions quickly entered Terran orbit and rapidly deployed their forces planet side. The Ultramarines suffered the most casualties from this assault as many a Word Bearer or World Eater longed to gain vengeance for the Ruinstorm and the brothers lost to the madness of daemons.

Guilliman himself seemed almost lost, as if in a dream. The Thirteenth Son could not seem to organise his sons as he once did. Many believed that the corruption of the Ruinstorm and the damnable acts the Lord of Ultramar had carried out since Isstvan took him of his wits, while others believed that upon the gates of Terra he realised the trust cost of his heresy. It mattered little in the end when Fulgrim confronted Guilliman in the ruins of the Outer Palace.

* * *

 _Guilliman watched everything burn, he watched the great Sky Fortress of Rogal fall to the earth, killing thousands of his sons within minutes. Across the vox he could hear their death cries. But it didn't matter for this was all for the glory of Sanguinius and the Chaos Gods. Only through blood could they ascend. Only through sacrifice could true power be attained. If so, then why did nothing make sense? Why did he feel so lost? He remembered his worlds in the Ruinstorm, the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar. Once pristine and the model of an Imperial world, now covered in warp-fire and ruled by the damned and the daemonic. He remembered the look of rage on Angron's face and the judgment on Lorgar's as well as his… pity._

 _It didn't matter. All of this was for the good, all for Mankind's betterment. Father was a tyrant that needed to be dethroned. It was all for -_

 _"Roboute!" a voice yelled, breaking Roboute from his thoughts. The sound of war and a world screaming in torment carried upon the wind, as did the smell of death and despair._

 _He turned to see Fulgrim, Lord of Chemos, looking upon him with a face of pale perfect granite. Guilliman had been judged by Fulgrim and in his black heart he knew that only one of them would walk away from this._

 _"Was it all worth it?" the Phoenician asked, his voice soft as he gestured to the carnage and madness that surrounded them. "Was damning yourself all worth this?"_

 _In response Guilliman ignited_ the Fists of Ultramar _. "One way or another we'll get what is owed."_

 _"Will that quieten the screams, brother?" Fulgrim asked, his voice as gentle as the mystical seas of his homeworld._

 _Guilliman said nothing but let loose a wordless cry of rage on his lips, one that would have shamed Angron._

 _And the battle between primarchs began._

* * *

The fate of humanity hung in the balance as primarchs duelled across Terra. Fulgrim cornered Guilliman, Alpharius hunted down the Lion, and Magnus, wishing to seek revenge on Leman Russ for the Wolf King's genocide of Prospero, readied his elite guard to attack the Lord of the Rout, but Horus Lupercal prevented his brother from doing so, citing that the Crimson King needed to stay and preserve the psychic barriers that defended the Inner Palace. Magnus relented, and in his place sallied forth the Warmaster and his sons.

The Warmaster met the Executioner, and after a close battle that drew the eyes of all present, Horus struck down his brother with the Emperor-forged power mace _Worldbreaker_ , destroying Russ' great spear and sending Russ into a deep coma. Before the killing blow could be delivered, word reached Horus of a brother of his being endanger. The Warmaster quickly arrived to save Alpharius from Lion El'Jonson. The Warmaster defeated the First Primarch using his Talons, though they were broken upon a deep wound across the Lion's chest. Lion El'Jonson, a Daemon-Primarch, could never truly die but was banished to the Eye of Terror, though his temporary death caused the Dark Angels to fall upon the ground, writhing with painful ecstasy at the sensation their primogenitor's psychic death-scream brought them. The Sons of Horus and Alpha Legion began to execute their former comrades, ending their treachery as the Angels of Caliban gasped with pleasure as they died.

Meanwhile the duel between the Third and Thirteenth Primarchs continued, with Guilliman bellowing wordless rage while the Phoenician fought on in silence. The two battled for hours with no end in sight, but it was only due to the heroic sacrifice of Lucius, a champion of the Emperor's Children, whose distraction allowed Fulgrim to deliver the killing blow, forever ending Roboute Guilliman. Fulgrim, body covered in dozens of wounds, collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss, his Astartes carrying him to safety. Though the Phoenician would live, he was unable to partake in the end, much to his sorrow. The Ultramarines began to fracture as word of their primarch's death spread. Only First Master Marius Gage prevented the XIII from completely routing.

With Lion El'Jonson banished and Roboute Guilliman dead, the tide threatened to turn. The Arch-Traitor gathered Vulkan, Rogal Dorn and Ferrus Manus to his side and the power of four demigods broke through the loyalist defences leading into the Sanctum Imperialis. Rogal Dorn combated Perturabo at the broken Eternity Gate, while Sanguinius led Vulkan and Ferrus Manus into the Throne Room to kill the Emperor. The only loyal son defending the Master of Mankind was Magnus the Red.

The Fifteenth Primarch, weakened after months of using his psychic powers for defensive purposes, nonetheless was a being made for war by the Emperor Himself and a result the Crimson King unleashed a torrent of warp-energy against the traitors. Vulkan was hurt, but the Lord of Drakes instantly healed, while Sanguinius' gods-given protection prevented harm and Ferrus Manus' was able to wade through the warp-fire and lightning with ease due to the Blood God's favour. Seeing his Immaterial powers being ineffective, Magnus readied his blade as the three Traitor Primarchs approached him. Magnus and the Legio Custodes were the only thing protecting the Emperor and they would fight to preserve Him.

Horus had heard panicked vox reports of the four Traitor Primarchs attacking the Eternity Gate and rushed over. Awaiting him were Angron and Lorgar. The three hurried to the Throne Room, unable to take part in the titanic engagement between Perturabo and Dorn who still battled without pause. The three primarchs arrived to what could only be described as a slaughterhouse. Almost all of the Companions, the elite three hundred Custodes who protected the Emperor's person directly, lay dead before the Throne Room's doors while Magnus' body lay broken on the floor, Ferrus Manus poised to end the Crimson King.

With a roar, Angron rushed the Tenth Primarch with his chainaxes while Lorgar muttered prayers to his father as he approached Vulkan. With the opening provided, Horus hurried to save his vulnerable father from Sanguinius, before all was lost. Horus at first begged Sanguinius to turn back from his treachery, to repent and seek forgiveness but the Angel of Blood was too far gone, the Chaos Gods having warped his mind and corrupted his soul.

Hardening his resolve, the Warmaster fought the Arch-Betrayer. The Emperor, however, was unable to intervene for it was only due to His god-like willpower upon the Golden Throne that the daemon hordes had not entered through a Webway gate on Terra itself and swarmed the entire world. He could only watch on from His throne as His sons fought at the Throne Room's entrance.

In orbit the arrival of the three Loyal Legions had stalemated the fight for void supremacy while on the ground the tides of battle shifted with every passing minute. Both sides knew the outcome of the entire war depended on what was happening in the Throne Room.

Together the two closest sons of the Emperor fought, Horus threw accusation upon accusation at the Angel's feet. But Sanguinius was unmoved and uncaring of Horus' words, instead calling the First Found a coward for the path that he took. Horus could not stop Sanguinius, as he was weak and weary from fighting Russ and the Lion, and his Talons had broken upon the First Primarch, and soon the Angel Fallen began to push the Warmaster back. Despite dealing several wounds to Sanguinius, it was the Angel Fallen who emerged victorious, his _Blade Encarmine_ piercing Horus' chest, rupturing both of the Warmaster's hearts. For further mockery Sanguinius threw the body of his once beloved brother out into the corridor for the surviving Astartes and Custodes to see Horus Lupercal's corpse. Word quickly spread, Sanguinius hoping to disrupt loyalist morale.

With that the Emperor decreed He could not standby any longer and rose from His Golden Throne, Malcador voluntarily placing Himself onto the archeotech, taking the Throne's burden willingly. And now after years of gruesome civil war with trillions dead and whole worlds burned to a cinder, the father now faced His wayward son. _The Blade Encarmine_ clashed with the Emperor's fiery golden blade. And though a psyker of unparalleled might, the Emperor had grown exhausted after years holding the daemons in the Webway at bay, and found Himself threatened by the might of Sanguinius and the Chaos energies that swelled within him as the two engaged in their climatic battle. The Emperor realised He could not beat Sanguinius, for He was weakened by the Throne's exacting burden. Sanguinius was prepared to end his father's regime when Magnus the Red, who had managed to recover some, made his way to the Throne Room's doorway and sent a last burst of psychic energy to stun the Arch-Betrayer.

The Emperor used this distraction to kill the Angel Fallen, and in that moment it is said Sanguinius realised how far he had truly fallen. To add further insult the sheer power of the blow cast Sanguinius into the Palace corridor to lie beside the body of Horus. With the death of their gene-sire, the Blood Angels were left in disarray, unable to do anything but flee with their father's corpse, as well as the body of Horus on the orders of the traitor Emperor's Children Chief Apothecary Fabius Bile. The Ninth Legion fled Terra, broken and disheartened. With that the traitors fled the Throneworld in droves, following the Blood Angels' example and suffering horrendous casualties in the mad dash to escape the vengeful loyalists. The losses suffered during the hectic retreat from Terra earned the Blood Angels the enmity of the other Traitor Legions.

Though there was still tragedy to be had as Malcador had been reduced to a pile of dust from the strain of directing the Golden Throne and the Astronomican in the Emperor's absence. The Emperor, now mortally wounded, was adamant that He Himself to be permanently interred onto the arcane machine. And so Magnus and Perturabo followed their father's wishes and interned Him on the Golden Throne, sustained by its advanced technology and the daily sacrifice of a thousand psykers.

 **A Dark Millennium**

A new order was now needed following the death of Horus and the Emperor's internment upon the Golden Throne as there was much to do in order to fix the ruin left in the Sanguinary Heresy's wake. The remaining Loyalist Primarchs and other surviving Imperial leaders banded together to prevent the Imperium from collapsing. The Mournival took up their father's leadership of the XVI and vowed to recover his corpse from the grasp of Fabius Bile and his allies in the Traitor Legions. But such a crusade had to be postponed as the Imperium needed rebuilding before there could be vengeance.

The first priority was to hunt down and push the Traitor Legions into the Eye of Terror as well as reclaim and restore all the Imperium lost during the rebellion. So followed the Great Scouring where the Loyalist Legions and other Imperial forces pushed back against the darkness covering much of the galaxy. It would take years, with battles and campaigns rivaling those undertaken during the Heresy. Notable campaigns included the actions taken against the Traitor Legion homeworlds, except for the Tri-Worlds of Baal which had been relocated to the Eye of Terror, the Liberation of Beta-Garmon, the Cleansing of Morabon, the War of Abominates, and the First Cadian War.

Though many great victories were secured, the Imperials suffered grave defeats in the restoration of their empire. Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children, disappeared during the War of Abominates. In the campaign against the Iron Hands and rogue Fabius Bile, the last known act of the Phoenician was him duelling the Blood Gorgon to allow his battered Legion to escape from the trap they found themselves in. Furthermore, the loss of Konrad Curze to a Chaos Assassin was another devastating blow to a weakened Imperium, but the Night Haunter's selfless sacrifice saved his Legion from the dark path it had begun to embark on since Sanguinius raised the flag of rebellion.

Their sire's death saw to a spiritual change, the VIII developing stringent efforts to create a compromise between their benevolent humane compassion and their darker terror-causing tendencies, using the strengths of both while avoiding potential weakness or corruption. Still, the loss of Curze was mourned across the Imperium but his sons returned to their rightful place as enforcers of the Lex Imperialis, a position they have held for over ten millennia. The loss of two more Loyalist Primarchs was a catastrophic blow to the Imperium, but one it weathered under the leadership of those that remained.

Finally, after years of civil war and incalculable strife, the Traitor Legions had been ousted from their territories in real-space and the borders of the Imperium restored. The Great Scouring was over. The Age of Imperium could now begin.

It would take centuries more, but the Imperium stabilised itself and began the process of rebuilding. The Loyalist Legions recovered and eventually expanded far beyond their pre-Heresy strength. Reforms were carried out, new organisations founded, and the newer more unknown and less enlightened era began. Without the Emperor to do so Himself, the responsibility of ruling and guiding the Imperium fell upon the High Lords of Terra, successors to the Council of Terra. As the destructive fires of the Heresy cooled, two new organisations emerged: the Inquisition and the Ecclesiarchy. The Imperial Legions accepted the establishment of the Inquisition without much issue, for the Emperor and His trusted Regent had seen to its initial creation in the dark days of the Heresy, while the Imperial Church on the other hand became a point of contention.

Violent wars of faith swept through the recovering Imperium in the decades after the Scouring, different sects of the Imperial Faith vying for control. It wasn't until Lorgar Aurelian unified and codified the Imperial Creed into the Adeptus Ministorum, instituting his Word Bearers as the Ecclesiarchy's Chamber Militant, that these detrimental wars ceased.

Many who believed in the God-Emperor, and even those who did not, questioned why Lorgar Aurelian did not accept the mantle of Ecclesiarch, for it was Lorgar who had written many of the Church's religious texts and had been the effective founder of the Imperial Faith since his discovery on Colchis centuries ago, but the Urizen refused the office, saying that he and his sons could not effectively guide the Faith whilst simultaneously defending it. The Seventeenth Primarch argued that it should fall to mortal men and women to guide the species' spiritual path and not the primarchs and transhuman Astartes who had been necessarily removed from base Mankind to better protect it. Therefore the first Ecclesiarch became Cyrene Valantion, the Blessed Lady of Monarchia, who had become Confessor of the Word Bearers during the Great Crusade's final decades and acted as a spiritual beacon during Shadow Crusade, helping legionnaires and mortal crew alike withstand the Ruinstorm's many horrors.

In the Eye of Terror, the Dark Angels, White Scars, Space Wolves, Imperial Fists, Blood Angels, Iron Hands, Salamanders and Raven Guard battle each other within the Eye, too cruel to truly put aside their divisions and conquer the Imperium. Meanwhile, the Daemon-Primarchs play the Great Game of Chaos, largely unconcerned with the affairs of their sons and other mortal beings.

The Dark Angels reside on the Daemon World of Sycorax, a planet in mimicry of the Caliban of old but one corrupted by Slaanesh's hedonistic caress. Courts of false nobility cover the Daemon World, where the largest and greatest house the First Primarch, who bides his time until the wound dealt to him by Luther and worsened by Horus has healed. While he recovers, the Lord of the First Legion sends out his warband-companies to hunt down the Unforgiven and to carry banners bearing the Sigil of the Dark Prince and the Winged Sword of the Legion into the many wars waged against the Imperium and their fellow traitors.

The White Scars, the most divided and scattered of the Traitor Legions, still remain a powerful force whose brotherhoods raid far and wide across the galaxy. Though lacking a centralised command and their primarch, many contend for its leadership. Whoever can unite a majority of the V would be the commander of a vast and powerful host that could bring great suffering to the galaxy.

After the Siege of Terra ended in defeat and their homeworld of Fenris destroyed during the Scouring, the Space Wolves withdrew to the Eye of Terror. There on Ymir, a harsh world covered in warp-wrought ice and seas, resides the comatose Leman Russ. The sons of the Sixth Primarch await their father's return, eagerly anticipating his prophesised awakening that would herald the Wolftime and the victory long denied them.

The Imperial Fists' world is of plague and decay. Each Imperial Fist has become a tribute to death, a wandering harbinger of pestilence. This Legion has suffered a schism within its ranks following the First Cadian War, between Dorn and his once favoured son Sigismund, Host of the Destroyer Hive and Herald of Nurgle. Each side seeks to usurp the other in the eyes of the Grandfather and to prove their worth they rot entire worlds for Nurgle's glory.

The Iron Hands have fully given themselves to the Blood God Khorne, living upon a world of blood and metal. Here they improve their bodies with iron in order to find new ways to kill for their lord primarch and god, as well as improve their own savage prowess to further the glory they can bring to the Skull Throne. On their Daemon World of Kronaimok, many Dark Mechanicum hereteks flock to work alongside the Warpsmiths of the Iron Hands, fashioning daemon weapons to sell for slaves and blood. Meanwhile, Ferrus Manus attempts to reforge his metal hands of old, lost to him by his ascension to daemonhood so many millennia ago.

The Ultramarines, unique among the Fallen Nine Legions, have taken refuge not in the Great Eye but rather their once-grand Realm of Ultramar, encased and riddled with the Ruinstorm that Roboute Guilliman created. The Ultramarines, following their father's death on Terra to the blade of Fulgrim, have fractured into a multitude of Chapter-Warbands and rule their own petty fiefdoms within the Five Hundred Worlds. Many worship their father's stasis-preserved corpse on Macragge, seeing their gene-sire as the pinnacle of all they could ever be and as a sacrificial god, but others such as Marius Gage seek to overthrow their long-dead father's influential yoke on the XIII and lead it into a victorious future. From his Fortress World of Armatura, the former First Master begins to deploy weapons, daemon engines, and other fouler creations in his war for supremacy within the Ruinstorm.

The Salamanders seek to free their perpetual daemon father, who became trapped somewhere in the labyrinthine Webway centuries after the Heresy by Magnus the Red. The Eighteenth Primarch calls to his progeny through their blood, causing them to follow his dark urges and commands. The Salamanders murder and burn entire worlds for the glory of Chaos Undivided, all in the search of their gene-sire. It is not uncommon to see some gorge upon the flesh of humans and Space Marines alike, attempting to suppress their father's beckoning. These foul draconic warriors have become cannibals or worse, and there are rumours that the obscene Primarch-Thing of the Black Legion, created by Fabius Bile, longs to claim Vulkan's throne, while others such as Cassian Dracos seek to liberate their brothers from the Drake Lord and forge their own paths, free from failed demigods.

And the Raven Guard reside on their Tzeentch-gifted Daemon World, giving themselves to the Architect of Fate. They experiment on their flesh-change, longing to find some form of perfect stability that constantly eludes them, much to the enjoyment of their dark patron. They raid Space Marine worlds for stocks of gene-seed that they use to experiment upon and unlock the secrets of the Emperor's gene-crafting. To find genetic stability for the XIX has long been the project which has preoccupied the Raven King. If gene-seed stability were to ever be acquired and the Nineteenth Primarch's attention turned elsewhere, then the stars themselves would shake in fear at the horrors that would surely follow.

The Blood Angels, once the vanguard elite of the Great Crusade and then during the Sanguinary Heresy the most favoured Legion of the Ruinous Powers, they are now broken in body, mind, and spirit. For Sanguinius' failure to kill the Emperor and their sudden retreat from the Siege following the Arch-Betrayer's death, the Blood Angels have since been hated by the other Traitor Legions. Such was this fury directed at the Ninth Legion that during the Eye's Legion Wars, the Blood Angels were pushed to the brink of extinction. An extinction staved off only by cunning and fearless warlords and champions bearing Sanguinius' gene-seed, alongside the general lessening of the Slave Wars after centuries of ceaseless battle. Now the Blood Angels are a former shadow of themselves, a hollow remnant of a once mighty Legion, fractured into hundreds of warbands that fight themselves as often as they fight other bloodlines. Greatest of the Blood Angel warlords is Raldoron, former First Captain of the Legion, now Lord Overseer of the Baal Tri-Worlds, every wary of losing his powerbase and begrudging his father's memory, detesting the Angel of Blood for his failures and weakness. But the blood of conquerors and arch-heretics flows through the veins of every Blood Angel and if one worthy enough were able to unite the Legion, then woe betide any who stand against them.

It has been over ten thousand years since the Sanguinary Heresy and the Imperium has endured. Besieged by monsters and xenos, attacked from within by heretics and rebels, assailed by great tragedies such as the War of the Beast and the Reign of Blood that have left scars not yet fully healed. And over the course of those many centuries, the Loyalists Primarchs have either disappeared or died, one by one until finally none of the Emperor's sons now remain.

It is now the late 41st Millennium, the Ork Waaaghs! rampage across the galaxy in numbers not seen since the War of the Beast; the Dark Eldar strike from the shadows, ever eager for slaves and plunder. The deathless Necrons arise to regain their lost throne; while the Tyranids hunger for all life in the stars. And the Tau profess their Greater Good, hoping to bring unity and peace to a galaxy with no desire for it.

The greatest threat to the Imperium however remains the Chaos Legions, who after ten thousand years of disunity and infighting are finally setting aside their differences to take advantage of the Imperium's frailty in the wake of Cicatrix Maledictum's formation that has violently severed the galaxy in two. The Time of Ending approaches, heralding the Last War to come, and the galaxy will burn for it.

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone and thanks for reading! This is an alternate Warhammer fanfic inspired by the excellent pieces of work by the likes of Zahariel and Tanner151 (which you should go and read now).

As you can tell this is a what-if the other choice for Warmaster fell to Chaos, and it was the loyalists that were traitors. I intend to the backstory of all the legions in numerical order, but after that who knows. As for why I picked Sanguinius, I thought it'd be interesting to explore how Chaos could have undermined the nature of his mutation. The fear of him not having a place in the Imperium's future and such like.

Anyhow please review as every little helps, and enjoy the rest of your day!

EDIT: Hey everyone, I hope you enjoy the newly-edited chapter. Big shout out to the wonderful Tanner151 who extended out his help in improving the first chapter. Go check out his works, they're awesome!


	2. Index Astartes: Dark Angels

**Dark Angels: The Knights of Pleasure and Sensation**

 _Once the paragons to which all the Space Marine Legions were judged by, the Dark Angels have fallen far from grace. These warriors were once driven by the honour that was becoming of a knight. But now they are the playthings of the Prince of Pleasure, killing for the thrill of a life taken. While their Interrogator-Chaplains break flesh and spirits for their enjoyment, the Lion rests as the wound given to him by Luther heals. This Legion has been a blight of murder and hedonism upon the galaxy despite their gene-sire's incapacitation, and many an Inquisitor fears the day that the Lion fully recovers and once again takes direct command of his Angels of Darkness for fear of the orgy of violence that would follow in his wake._

* * *

 **Origins**

It is upon the world of Caliban where the dark tale of the First Primarch begins. Caliban was one of the many worlds lost to Mankind during the chaotic Old Night. Many of those within the Inquisition that try to inquire into the past of the Dark Angels, believe that it was at some point during the Age of Strife that the world of Caliban was infected by some form of warp-born corruption.

Caliban was an odd backwater world, where many of the inhabitants lived in a medieval society, where kingdoms rose and fell, and knights duelled for honour and glory. From what little information remains about Caliban, many agree that it was a Death World. The planet was covered in dense, dark forests which great beasts prowled, something that would not seem amiss in Old Terran stories. It was here that noble knights played their part, hunting down and killing any of these terrible monsters that harmed the population.

The clash of beast and man had raged across Caliban for many years, the never-ending threat of the foul creatures kept Caliban's people from advancing as a society, leaving them trapped in their primitive state. Yet despite it all, the people survived; a testament of Mankind's will against the darkness.

It was upon this world that the Lord of the First Legion was cast when the Dark Gods attempted to halt the Emperor's dreams by tossing His primarch-sons to the cosmic winds, hoping that the child demigods would be killed by whatever dangerous world they landed upon. Lion El'Jonson landed upon the world of Caliban, deep into its foreboding forests. It was here that the Lion grew; testing his might against the great beasts of the world. And many believe that it was here he found his lust for killing, the same lust that would drive his sons into the arms of the Prince of Pleasure centuries later.

* * *

 _Was he a beast? He killed like a beast, but did that make him one?_

 _No, he couldn't have been a beast. He was beyond them in every way, far more powerful and innately superior._

 _The child-giant looked down on the bull-horned monster that it had killed, witnessing the creature's life-blood flow from its many wounds. The giant watched the light in its eyes dim and he relished in that, in the art of the kill, in the satisfaction of a life taken. But such gratification did little to answer the question that had troubled him since he had emerged from the metal capsule._

 _Was he a beast?_

 _He did not look like them, he was perfect and they were not. He was immaculate, while they were foul. He was not like them, nor would he be ever them. The child-giant swore to himself that he would never be so weak or inferior, but he couldn't deny the exhilarating thrill of taking a life. The pleasure that seeped down his spine, enriching nerve synapses, sending shudders of adrenaline and self-absorbed pride throughout his body._

 _As the giant walked further into the forests, he was blind to the shadows that danced and cavorted over the beast's corpse. The Prince of Pleasure had planted its damnable kiss on the primarch and found its champion in the wars to come…_

* * *

The primarch, who had grown from a child to a teen in the forests of Caliban, was soon found by a cadre of knights out on a hunt for a particularly vicious great beast, and it was here where the Lion made himself known. He killed the beast, and many knights wanted to kill the primarch in turn for the inhuman gleeful savagery he showed. But the knight-commander, Luther, spared him that day and the galaxy would soon weep countless tears of sorrow and regret at that decision.

It was Luther who adopted the primarch and raised him as if he were his own son, teaching him of the knightly code of honour and duty to his people, inducting him into the ranks of a knightly brotherhood known simply as the Order. The child was named Lion El'Jonson, meaning Son of the Forest in an old Calibanite dialect, but very soon many would know him simply as the Lion. He shared many attributes with the mythical heroes and angels of Old Terra and Caliban, his nobility and greatness matched by his strength and intelligence. Luther raised the primarch and the Lion absorbed Luther's many lessons on noble honour and selfless sacrifice, the true meaning of what it meant to be a knight.

But despite Luther's claims that the Lion did not share blood with the tainted predators of the forest, there was still a doubt in the demigod's mind. A fear that he was in fact not one of Caliban's knights, but rather a despised monster who preyed upon the defenceless weak, driven by urges and desires too horrid to comprehend. This internal conflict of what he was meant to be tore at the Lion's soul, unable to comprehend what he was. Many believe that this planted the seed that would lead the Lion in waging a crusade against the great beasts of his homeworld; to remove the doubt that he was one of them by killing them all with fire and blade.

It did not take long for the young primarch to ascend the Order's complex hierarchy, quickly becoming its Supreme Grand Master. With the resources and manpower he now possessed, the Lion set out to unify the planet and its people against the great beasts. But the forest-dwelling creatures were not all the Order fought, but other knightly orders and kingdoms too. In time, they all bowed to him, accepting his rule for none could defeat the Lion on the battlefield or were convinced to join the Order by the charismatic Luther, who acted as the Lion's second-in-command and his chief advisor and diplomat. Many were enraptured by the Lion's victories against the great beasts and the unification of Caliban after it had been divided for so long, convincing millions of Calibanites to flock to the demigod's banner. However, it was during the long crusade to rid Caliban of the great beasts that some few whispered that Lion El'Jonson was little more than a beast himself, a predator and killer in the shape of a man. The young primarch's intelligence and strength did little to defuse such a notion.

But Luther defended his son's character against his fellow knights, chastising them for mocking the Unifier of Caliban. But others feared Lion El'Jonson's motives for his crusade of extermination. That it was not born out of a duty to protect but rather a desire to kill. Luther swept such accusations aside, proud of the Lion for living up to the teachings he had taught him, those being to free Caliban of the great beasts for the good of the people.

The knightly crusade against the beasts was a long and brutal war that lasted decades, tens of thousands of knights riding to a war that barely half would survive. Despite the high casualties and the quiet voices of criticism laid against him, the Lion stopped at nothing to see the monsters exterminated, going so far as to burn down immense stretches of dense forestry to the ground in the attempt at smoking the beasts out from their burrows and holes. Dark rumours, long whispered around campfires for millennia but gaining more credibility as the crusade went on, was that some beasts were born by human parents before being discarded in the woods to live with their monster kin.

Any villages that had produced any such creatures were torched to the ground, and the inhabitants massacred. Lion El'Jonson would not allow such corruption to live on his world. Despite it being for the good of Caliban, many knights found themselves unnerved by this attitude of slaughtering innocent civilians. And few could ignore the look of sheer delight that shone in the Lion's eyes during these mass-murders; an enjoyment of death, a love of the killing.

Luther, however, remained blind to any such flaw in his son.

The crusade against the monsters was soon finished and Caliban united under singular rule after the defeat of the Knights of Lupus, despite the rumours concerning the Order's leader. The Lion rejoiced that his world was safe for his people; he had become everything a knight should ever want to be; a great defender of the people, willing to perform noble deeds no matter the cost. It was during this time that a fleet from the mythical homeworld of Mankind, Terra, appeared in the skies above and the Lion's sire made Himself known to long-isolated Caliban.

The Master of Mankind found Himself proud of the First Primarch for his unifying conquest of Caliban and cleansing it of foul xenos creatures. The Emperor likewise praised Luther for doing what He was unable to do due to the Lion being taken from Him so many years ago. The Emperor praised the Grand Master of the Order for the gallant attitude and honour which he had instilled into Lion El'Jonson, and rewarded him as a Hero of the Imperium and lauded Luther with titles and awards, pleasing the old knight and cementing his loyalty to the Emperor.

The Emperor then proclaimed to the people of Caliban that He had come to integrate them into the nascent Imperium. The Master of Mankind then took His son and Luther to somewhere away from prying eyes, and there revealed to the Lion of his lineage and further more of the other primarchs. The Lion was taken back by these revelations, that he had brothers and therefore was not alone as he had always feared. Not only did he have brothers, but he also had sons that longed to be with their father: the First Space Marine Legion.

The Lion was soon reunited with his sons as they arrived in full strength to meet their primogenitor, naming them Dark Angels after a Calibanite legend, and many of his fellow knights were soon raised into the ranks of the Legion. While Luther was too old for the full set of augmentations that would transform him into an Astartes, he was given the best genetic treatments and enhancements available and raised into a lesser form of transhuman, a quasi-Astartes. Due to his relationship with the Lion, coupled with his impressive intellect and skills, Luther soon rose through the Legion's command. Caliban itself was modernised with Terran technology and made part of the Imperium, and the primarch-led Dark Angels returned to the Great Crusade.

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"You are my sons as I am my foster father Luther's son. And so I shall pass onto you the knowledge that he bestowed upon me. I look upon you all and my hearts beat with pride for already I see the makings of nobility and greatness. I shall teach you all to live with honour and to die with glory! We shall do as I did upon Caliban, riding out to face the menace that dare attack the innocent! And we shall cleanse them with fire, blade, and bolter! For the greatness of Mankind, for we are His angels. His first and foremost weapon against the monsters of the void and all those that defy Him shall repent!"_ \- Attributed to Lion El'Jonson upon gaining command of the First Legion

* * *

With their primarch now at the helm, the Great Crusade truly began for the Dark Angels as they quickly and efficiently brought countless human worlds into compliance while exterminating scores of xenos races. Several years after rediscovery, the Lion met his Fenrisian brother Leman Russ during the Dulan Campaign. It was at this famous meet that the two primarchs violently disagreed on how the Siege of the Crimson Fortress was to be carried out, eventually devolving into a brawling match. Russ despised the pretentious knightly ways of the Dark Angels while the Lion saw the Space Wolves as nothing more than barbarous savages that harkened back to the darker days of Old Night. Instead of this causing a lasting enmity between the two brothers as was feared, this incident instead forged respect and friendship with one another that saw to the swift successful conclusion of the Dulan Campaign. Russ and the Lion would become close friends and brothers, whose Legions fought beside each other frequently throughout the Great Crusade, an odd union of allies due to the Dark Angels' chivalrous ways sharply contrasting to the Space Wolves more bombastic and thuggish raider spirit. Though praised as a show of inter-Legion camaraderie and highlighting the ties of primarch brotherhood, this close relationship between the two Legions would go on to cause the Imperium much woe in later years.

As the first of the Legiones Astartes, the Dark Angels were quite large during the early to mid-Great Crusade, something that the Dark Angels prided themselves in. However during the Third Rangdan Xenocides in the 890s.M30, the First Legion suffered such devastating casualties battling the cerbavore Rangdan species that they lost their vaunted status as the largest Legion, replaced by the Ultramarines. It was here that many believe the Lion's darker side began to seep in and control him, many noting the look of delight on his face as he cut down the dull xenos, an example that many of his sons followed. Though many ignored such expressions, as it was not uncommon to find many relishing the thrill of battle or the joy of purging foul xenos, it did cause some to worry, especially Luther. The Legion's second-in-command tried to counsel his son, but the Lion felt he had outgrown the old man's chivalry and humility, effectively banishing Luther and hundreds of others who questioned him to exile on Caliban. This would set a precedent in the Dark Angels Legion that whoever questioned or displeased their gene-sire, quickly found themselves reassigned to garrison duty on their homeworld.

However despite all that he could do, the Lion could not stop the xenos tide and it took the aid of the Space Wolves and the Twentieth Legion to purge the xenos from the Imperium's northern borders. It would take decades longer to fully ensure that the Rangdans had been exterminated and the half-century long war had left its mark on the Dark Angels and their primogenitor. The loss of so many sons weighed upon the Lion, and his Legion's decimation and subsequently being replaced as the most numerous among the Emperor's Legions, fuelled the fire that was Lion El'Jonson's anger, born of wounded pride. His perceived failures drove the Lion to perform ever greater feats, and likewise drove his sons to follow suit. It was not uncommon for the Dark Angels to challenge members of other Legions to duels over the smallest slight, sometimes with fatal consequences.

As for relationships with his brothers, the Lion was known for being social enough among the primarchs - which could not be said for the likes of Angron, and had many of his brothers' respect, though rarely their friendship. The poorest relationship was that with Ferrus Manus, Lord of the Iron Tenth. Manus and the Lion despised each other greatly; a trait that was passed onto their sons. The Lion seemed to look down upon the Gorgon's and his sons' ways, deeming them little better than blood soaked blacksmiths. While Manus saw the Lion and his sons as preening, pompous bluebloods; scions of a lavished world that did not know what it was like to live in fear of true monsters. Such rivalries would come to head during the Legion Wars, and since then the Dark Angels and Iron Hands still war to this day.

However, the Lion's over-critical mentality led to him alienating several of the primarchs with his cold analysis of their flaws and mistakes, and his public refusal to acknowledge his own caused some primarchs to disregard the Lord of the First Legion. The closest friend the Lion and his sons held were Russ and his Wolves, their aid during the Third Rangdan Xenocides only driving the two Legions closer together. As with many of his brothers, the Lion held Sanguinius in high regard, but seemed to vehemently dislike Horus. To what reason is unknown, not even the Angel could convince the Lion to reveal such reasoning.

It may have been born of the rumours that both primarchs were considered for the position of Warmaster, and Lion El'Jonson's anger towards the eventual decision support this theory. This anger may have been born of being the Lord of the First Legion yet being passed over by the Emperor, believing that it was due to biased favour held for Horus. The Lion believed that the Emperor saw Horus Lupercal as His true heir simply due to being the First Found primarch despite all that the Lion had accomplished. As a result, following the Triumph of Ullanor, the Lion doubled his efforts to prove himself as the equal of Horus in the Emperor's eyes. This would take the Lord of Caliban far away from the Imperium's borders, eventually leading him into conflict with a cabal of Dark Eldar, which put him upon the path of learning the Dark Prince's name and his favour with the Chaos god.

* * *

The Dark Eldar

The Dark Eldar, known in their tongue as the Drukhari, was a faction that broke away from the original Eldar Empire after its Fall. The Dark Eldar were a cruel race that revelled in piracy, enslavement and torture, and are sadistic to the extreme. Their origins date back far before Mankind's rise to galactic dominance which began at the Fall of the Eldar. The Eldar Empire's centuries of unspeakable hedonism birthed a great horror: Slaanesh, Prince of Pleasure. The Dark God's birth pains lasted for many years and the afterbirth of such a foul god is still present in the galaxy to this day in the form of the Eye of Terror. Slaanesh's birth marked the end of the Eldar, as the god they call She-Who-Thirsts glutted itself on their souls.

While most of the surviving xenos lived aboard Craftworlds or on Exodite and Maiden Worlds, those who would become the Dark Eldar escaped through the use of the Webway; the galaxy-spanning inter-dimensional labyrinth of the Old Ones. Here they fled to the greatest and most lawless city within the Webway: Commorragh, the Dark City. These Eldar were unrepentant of their ways, acting as the midwives to dark ruin even as Slaanesh devoured their souls, body and minds.

Luck, however, came to the denizens of Commorragh as they soon discovered that by absorbing the pain and torments of another's soul they could rejuvenate themselves and cheat death. Assuming they could feed regularly, these Eldar of the Webway had become physically immune to the passage of time. Soon the Commorragh Eldar began raiding real-space in search of captives and slaves to rejuvenate themselves with. So it was that the Dark Eldar were created, a race of sadistic murderers who fed upon the anguish of others to prevent the death of their immortal souls.

* * *

And it was during a conflict with the Dark Angels that the Lion became aware of the Prince of Pleasure, and fell into its corrupting embrace. It was on the planet of Kharaatan that while the Night Lords and the Salamanders fought the uprising on the planet's surface, the Lion dealt with the formidable rebel fleet in orbit. It was here that the Dark Eldar became aware of Slaanesh's hooks in Lion El'Jonson's soul, causing them to send hundreds of their warriors, knowing that whoever was able to kill the primarch and acquire his soul would forever live beyond the Dark Prince's reach. Bursting from their Webway gates, they attacked the Lion's fleet, surprising the Imperials. And it was upon the Invincible Reason that the Lion duelled with the leader of the xenos force. Hoping he could find some answers to why they seemed so intent on killing the three primarchs.

* * *

 _Lion El'Jonson looked down on the Dark Eldar warlord, the pair had duelled upon his ship's command bridge but the Lion proved the creature's better in swordsmanship. It dance and spun, but the Lion met its every move with the grace that Luther taught him and with the unforgiving ferocity the beasts of the forests taught him when he had hunted them._

 _He looked down on the dying xenos and found its eyes wide not with pain but ecstasy. It loved the pain that it was brought as much as it loved to kill. Interesting, the primarch thought._

 _Am I a beast? The old question returned as the Lion looked into the dying alien's eyes, finding a dark reflection of his own desires in them. And that chilled the primarch to his core._

 _"Why did you try to kill my brothers and me?" he demanded of the dying creature, his voice that of a lion of Old Terra. "What did you seek to gain from this foolish venture?"_

 _"Too deny them their toys," the dying Eldar rasped, a dark smile coming about its pale face. "To deny She-Who-Thirsts her plaything. Both of your brothers are touched by them, the Drake Lord and the Night Haunter. You're all damned… All of…"_

 _Its words rattled off with its last breath and Lion El'Jonson felt some form of morbid curiosity take root in him, curious to what it referred to. With that he turned to his sons and gestured for them to remove the dead xenos from his flagship. Seeing that the battle was in hand, the Dark Eldar and rebel fleets destroyed, the First Primarch retreated to his own cabin to mull over the creature's words._

* * *

It was clear that the words of the Dark Eldar leader haunted the Lion, but also enticed him. There were so many questions left unanswered for the Lord of the First Legion, questions that he would have answers for. No matter the cost. After the massacre of Kharaatan, the Lion left his brothers Vulkan and Curze to argue over morality while he pursued his own goals and to discover what exactly the Dark Eldar claimed he belonged to. The Lion left Kharaatan in anger, principally directed at himself. It was anger born of fear that despite all that he'd done since being discovered in the forests of Caliban, he was still nothing more than the beast some whispered him to be.

This led to the Lion falling into the arms of the Angel Fallen, for the foul agents of Sanguinius had made the Angel of Blood aware of his brother's confusion. Sanguinius made him aware of the Eldar's fall from grace, their failure as a race to achieve perfection and instead left the galaxy more corrupt. Sanguinius made his brother aware of the being that was created by the Eldar's hedonism, but left certain details out. He did so to prompt the seeds of corruption in Lion El'Jonson, in the hope that in his own quest for self-enlightenment he would fall into the arms of Chaos.

As the brothers discussed, Sanguinius made his plans to overthrow the Emperor known to the Lion. He sympathized with Lion El'Jonson over his fears of what he truly meant in this universe, as the Angel knew the pains of not fully comprehending one's existence and purpose. He told the Lion that the Emperor wanted to cleanse the universe of all beasts like that of Caliban, a category that both Sanguinius and Lion El'Jonson fell under. Furthermore, the Angel Fallen told his brother of the Emperor's multitude of lies. And in that moment of revelation the Lion swore his allegiance to the Angel Fallen. And the Dark Angels became one of the first Legions to give themselves fully to Chaos.

 **The Heresy: The Hunt for the Dead Empire**

With himself enlightened to the truths of the universe, the Lion threw himself fully into studying the Eldar Empire and its cataclysmic Fall. Sanguinius helped his brother in this quest of heretical knowledge when he could, but also spurred the seeds of corruption in the First Son's heart. With the charisma he was known for, the Angel Fallen flattered the Lion and his sons with compliments of their prowess and nobility.

These words spurred the Dark Angels in their knightly ways but likewise planted the poison of egotistical pride in their hearts, making themselves vulnerable to Sanguinius' manipulations, the Angel Fallen knowing which of the Pantheon had laid claim to the Dark Angels. And soon the Dark Angels became enthralled with the thrill of battle and the pain that they would undoubtedly acquire in it. All accordingly to the Prince of Pleasure's design. It took little to convince the Dark Angels to bear arms against their cousins in the Emperor's Loyal Legions. To them it was a chance to face a worthy foe.

The purge of loyalists within the First Legion's ranks came and went on the surface of Isstvan III, removing any who would deny the Lion's treacherous desires, all but the loyalist contingent on Caliban who had so far remained unawares of the corruption within their Legion. When it came to the Battle of Isstvan V, the Dark Angels had given themselves fully to the Prince of Pleasure, though they did not yet know it. They found euphoria filling them with every wound taken and every life reaped; the sensations indescribable even to their transhuman senses. It was little surprise that the Dark Angels relished the Battle of Isstvan V, and while he did disdain Manus, the Lion found himself glad that the bloodthirsty Iron Hands threw themselves into battle as he too likewise desired to test himself against his brothers and their progeny.

And so when the betrayal of those four Legions feigning loyalty to the Emperor occurred, Lion El'Jonson sought out his brothers to test his might. It was on the fields of Isstvan V that Fulgrim and the Lion clashed - however it was only a brief engagement. The Lion sought out the Phoenician seeing him as the only one to be worthy enough to test his skills against. The duel lasted only minutes before the Blood Gorgon knocked the Lion aside to fight against his brother. It was yet another slight that would boil in the Dark Angel Primarch's blood, contributing to the later wars waged between the Dark Angels and Iron Hands in the Great Storm.

After that brief clash, the Lion saw disappointingly little of his brothers upon Isstvan though he did become aware of the Khan's death and took temporary command of the White Scars to ensure that they did not descend into confusion and anarchy, an attempt at which the Lion was only somewhat successful in as coordination and cohesion among the Fifth Legion all but disappeared after their primarch's death. After the flight of the surviving loyalists from the black sands of Isstvan V, the Dark Angels became aware through the contact with another cabal of Dark Eldar pirates of an ancient Crone World. Though those words meant little to the Lion, he nonetheless gathered all his traitorous sons and followed his Dark Eldar guides into the Webway, hoping to find answers.

The Lion was brought to the world of Iydris, located in the Eye of Terror's centre, and the Dark Angels plundered the dead world of its assortment of secrets and treasures. It was here that the Lion learned the true name of the god born of the Eldar's foolishness: Slaanesh. Suddenly, the Eldar statues that covered the entire world burst into life and began to attack the traitor legionnaires. Lion El'Jonson demanded the meaning of this from his Dark Eldar guides, only to find that they had fled. The Dark Eldar hoped that the ancient stone warrior-automata of their cousins would end the Dark Angels before they could become pawns of She-Who-Thirsts. The entire operation of enticing the Lion to bring his Dark Angels to Iydris was all a manipulative ploy to destroy the First Legion.

But the Prince of Pleasure had already been denied one pawn and it would not be denied another. And so Slaanesh sent a daemonic guide to aid the Dark Angels. One of its own personal dancers and a creature that was all too aware of the designs of the Eldar: the Masque.

* * *

The Masque

The Masque of Slaanesh is the most infamous daemonette and Herald of Slaanesh to have ever beset the sentient creatures of the galaxy. Once, she had been Slaanesh's favoured dancer and chief handmaiden, but was eventually cast out by her master and cursed to forever dance through the Materium and Immaterium alike. The Masque has turned this curse into a potent weapon, forcing any being she manages to seduce with her hypnotic dance to join her performance until the unfortunate soul drops dead from exhaustion.

Her hatred of the Eldar is known to burn brighter than most of the Dark Prince's children. This hate originates via the actions of the enigmatic Harlequins of the Laughing God, in which the Masque was to sacrifice an entire world of Eldar to her Dark Prince. Instead the Harlequins challenged her to a dance which lasted six Terran days and nights. In the end it was the daemon who mis-stepped, disrupting the harmony of her god, leaving her ashamed. Since that day the Masque had longed to revenge herself on the Eldar and saw the Lion and his sons as the perfect means to do so.

* * *

And so it was the greater daemonette revealed herself to the Lion, and made him know of the Prince of Pleasure. She explained how Slaanesh had been by the Lion's side throughout his entire life, accepting him for who he was. The Masque explained that Slaanesh cared little for the Lion's darker natures and would never judge him for his vile desires, even remarking how cruel it was of Ferrus Manus to deprive the Lion of his duel with Fulgrim.

The Lion fed upon the Masque's words, and those honeyed lies swelled his growing pride and killing lust. The Lion knew that it was upon Iydris he would ascend to even greater power than he already possessed, though he had little understanding of what this change would fully entail. The Masque told him of how Slaanesh longed for the souls of Eldar who continuously denied him. The soulstone vaults residing beneath Iydris' surface, protected by the ancient statues, were valuable to Slaanesh and any who destroyed the soulstones in Slaanesh's beautiful name would feel its grace until the end of time itself. Knowing that the Eldar soulstones were the key to ascension, the Lion ordered his sons to storm the underground vaults and destroy all that lay within.

The Dark Angels quickly carried out this dire work, finding themselves empowered as they broke the soulstones, feeling the killing-lust within them grow, pushing them ever further into depraved desires. Though the First Primarch gained more power with every Eldar soul sent to Slaanesh, the Lion felt that something was incomplete and that he had not fully realised his newfound god's vision for him. With that he turned to the Masque, intuition and the whispers of the Chaos God telling him what needed to be done to free the primarch of his mortal limitations.

* * *

 _The Masque giggled with delight as she watched her Prince's Angels do their deed. She shivered with delight as she felt each of the Eldar fall into Slaanesh's embrace after so long denying her god its dues. The Prince was their child after all, born of their depravity and yet they refused its loving embrace. What arrogance. She turned to her Prince's Chosen, seeing the primarch swell with dark power and around him Neverborn were born in the shadow of his pride._

 _But there was a look about his face that worried the Masque, he seemed to be gazing upon her with an intent she not used too. Mortals gazed upon her with looks of joy, longing, and admiration, but this was a look of grim resolution. It was the look of someone who was about to do a dreadful deed that felt they would feel some guilt for doing._

 _She smiled nervously at the Anathema's First Son. "Good knight, your face is beset by contradiction and sourness. Why so in this time of your victory?"_

 _"For I know what must be done to truly ascend, my lady," came the forlorn response._

 _Before the Masque could even move she felt the demigod's hands around her neck. He raised her up to his eyelevel. "I shall need you for this next part, my lady. I assure you, you will most enjoy the torment."_

 _She knew now why after the long years of being denied Slaanesh's favour, she had been selected to lead the Prince's chosen to daemonhood. To be a sacrifice to add to the demigod's growing power, this was to be her punishment for that long ago failure._

 _And as the Lion began to squeeze, the Masque never got a chance to scream._

* * *

The Masque's death-scream acted as the crescendo for the Chaos ritual, and as she was banished back to the Prince of Pleasure's gardens in eternal shame, the Lion only rose in Slaanesh's eyes. The Lion felt his body and mind grow in strength and power. His physical shell transformed into one only half-true flesh and the other half warp-matter. His body was being reformatted into a shape more pleasing to the Prince of Pleasure's eyes. He became a paradoxical union of knight and daemon, taking an appearance of his namesake. And so the Dark Angels completed their ascension to Slaanesh's chosen, while in the warp the other gods raged over the Youngest One for having the audacity to ascend his chosen demigod first despite it being its elder brothers' dues.

 **The Heresy: The Lion Ascended**

With that the Dark Angels re-emerged from the Webway, having used its half-collapsed pathways to quickly travel from the Eye of Terror back to real-space. The Dark Angels re-joined the war, fighting not solely for Sanguinius and their gene-sire as they had done so originally but now also to glorify Slaanesh. The other Traitor Legions watched jealousy as the Lion flaunted his newfound power while Sanguinius could only praise the Lion for what he had accomplished, and how proud he was of his brother. The Lion could only respond with muted thanks, for something felt wrong. He had become a Daemon-Primarch, the first of his kind, but there was something limiting his daemonhood. Something tying him to the material universe, holding him back from reaching the highest peaks of his cursed potential.

Then the Lion remembered his foster father, Luther, and those Dark Angels he had exiled to Caliban over the years. It was they who were acting as a weight upon his soul, these loyalists who wore his colours yet whose heart and soul were loyal to the Emperor. The Lion knew this would be his final trial, the last matter tying him to the Materium. The First Primarch knew he would have to descend onto Caliban and waste his own homeworld, leaving nothing in his monstrous wake, but for the price of immortality and boundless power it was a price worth paying. The Dark Angels recoloured their armour and livery to forest green and arterial red, eschewing the black and white they had once proudly displayed during the Crusade; now visibly rebranded, the Traitor Legion made their way home to bring heresy and death to it.

Fortunately, Sar Luther had not been idle. When news of the Heresy reached Caliban, Luther reaffirmed his loyalty to the Imperium by purging those within his ranks who were more loyal to their primarch over the Master of Mankind. It was an extreme act but necessary as there were many Dark Angels that would have gladly welcomed their daemon-sire. The Lord Defender of Caliban knew that he could not defy the Lion's forces for long, but he intended to ensure that if this was to be the last stand of the loyalist elements of the Dark Angels, then it would be one that the traitors would pay a high price for.

And so the Traitor Dark Angels and their daemonic allies descended upon Caliban like a pack of hungry predators. Here their depravity was visible to all as these Traitor Astartes fooled the civilian populace with words of honour and knightly code before killing them for the sheer joy of the act. This disgusted Luther to his core, but he could only watch on as his allied bases fell piece by piece. It was not all hopeless however as each fortress taken was rigged to explode when it became clear that it could no longer resist the traitor assault, killing many Traitor Space Marines and cultists.

Even so, Caliban was ravaged by monsters far worse than those beasts of the woods. And while the loyalists tried to get as many civilians off world as possible, the traitors hounded the ships, launching raids and taking the civilians prisoner for their own sadistic purposes. These Calibanites would be hunted down for sport or if young enough would go on to become some of the first of the new generation of Dark Angels, one liberated from the Emperor's shackles by the Dark Prince to experience all the sensations and thrills the galaxy had in store for them. Still, Luther resolved himself and those last loyal knights of Caliban around him do so as well. They swore that there would be a reckoning, regardless when or how. This collective determination and steadfast loyalty created a temporary psychic beacon within the warp, informing the Emperor that there were still some loyal Dark Angels. Meanwhile, the Lion's traitorous sons surrounded the Aldurukh, the primary fortress of the Order during Caliban's unification, and after days of battle, the Traitor Primarch went to face his foster father alone.

The fortress burned as Luther watched the nightmare-thing that had been the child he had raised approached. In one hand it clasped the Lion Sword, now warped into a daemon blade and the other a shield with a face locked in pain. Shadows seemed to dance around him, and they snickered at the futile defiance of Caliban's last Grand Master.

* * *

 _ **"Father,"** the thing that had once been his son purred. **"I've come to destroy my past to further my future. Lie down and die with the broken systems and foolish beliefs!"**_

 _"They were your beliefs too!" Luther yelled back in courage, drawing his blade for what he knew would be the last time. "I taught you the codes of the knight. The knightly edict that made you and your sons into the pinnacle of noble chivalry, examples to all within the Great Crusade!"_

 _ **"And what a grand job you did, father,"** mocked the Lion. **"I have forsworn that code for I could not stomach its preening righteousness. False nobility, hollow ideals. All lies. The Imperial Truth is wrong, it has been wrong since its inception. Gods exists, no matter how terrible, they are real. The Emperor lied to us, lied to us all. But you are still blinded by His promises and hopes, and that makes you a fool. I cannot abide such ignorance to remain. Now prepare for the end."**_

 _With that said the duel commenced between father and son. The two fought in the ruins of Caliban's last fortress, their blades clanging and sending shockwaves with each block and swing. Luther was a skilled swordsman but compared to a primarch, especially one empowered with Chaotic energies, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Lion's blade ended him. Risking it all for a killing strike, Luther dodged the Lion's blade and stabbed with his own power sword into the primarch's chest. The Lion screamed in ecstatic pain, ichor and blood poured from the wound, cascading down the primarch's armour._

 _The Lion used his indomitable strength to shatter Luther's blade, pulling it from his wound, but oddly enough the wound did not begin to close. The Grand Master fell in the rubble, scores of traitor legionnaires crowding in to witness his demise. The Lion smirked, his grin maddened and demented, wound temporarily ignored. The primarch raised_ the Lion Sword _for the killing blow, but before it could be delivered, a golden field enveloped Luther, basking him in cleansing warmth. The Lord Defender of Caliban could see other loyalist Dark Angels similarly enveloped. The Lion's face was at first one of shock, then of pure rage. The primarch bellowed his frustration just as Luther and the others disappeared into the golden light, sending waves of powerful raw emotion rippling through the Immaterium._

 _Luther could feel his brothers and he being transported through the warp but many, so many, were knocked off their course by the Lion's fury, being sent to drift in the Empyrean's tides, but Luther and a small handful quickly arrived to their destination._

 _There was a flash of white-gold light and when it faded, Luther found himself in the Sanctum Imperialis, surrounded by Custodes, Silent Sisters, and Astartes from the Sons of Horus, Iron Warriors and Thousand Sons. The old knight looked up and the presence of three demigods was nearly overwhelming, but not nearly as much as being near Him. Behind Horus, Perturabo and Magnus sat the Emperor upon His Golden Throne, eyes closed, face locked in concentrations, beads of sweat dripping down his weathered face._

 _Luther saw he was not the only loyal Dark Angel here, but one of several dozen, including his trusted lieutenant Zahariel. But there should have been hundreds, possibly thousands… Luther wondered where, or when, his loyal knights were. Luther rose unsteadily to his feet, body sore due to the battle for Caliban and the strain the journey across the galaxy took, but rise he did. He was worried the three primarchs before him would accuse him of heresy due to affiliation with the Lion, but the demigods nodded respectively to him. It seemed they knew the truth. And if they did, then so would the Emperor…_

 _Across the Throne Room, the Emperor's eyes snapped open, glowing gold and Luther could do naught but kneel._

 _"+Welcome, Luther,+" came the Emperor's voice in his head. "+It is good you survived. There is much work to be done.+"_

* * *

Despite that some of the loyalists had escaped, the Lion gleefully destroyed Caliban and the Dark Angels left in victory, but those closest to the primarch knew he was troubled. The loyalists that had been extracted from Caliban by the Emperor had annoyed the Lion with their refusal to die as they should have. More worryingly, however, was the wound delivered by Luther refused to heal, despite his elevation to daemonhood. But he did not linger much thought on the wound, instead ordering the First Legion to make way towards Terra for the final battle of the Heresy. The Lion swore those sons of his that escaped were unforgivable for their continued loyalty to the Emperor and would one day be hunted down and made to repent.

* * *

The Unforgiven

The remaining loyalists of the once-noble Dark Angels, the Unforgiven are those that still stand by the rigid honourable beliefs of Caliban before it was lost to them by the actions of their corrupted brethren. Some of these Astartes were successfully transported to Terra, where they would go on to fight with distinction in the War in the Webway, but unfortunately a majority were lost to the currents of the warp, their passage denied by their primarch's anger. Now these legionnaires emerge randomly from the warp, scattered across time and space, hunted by their fallen brothers to repent for perceived crimes. The life of the Unforgiven is fraught with danger as they are both pariah to loyal and traitor forces alike; the traitors despising them for remaining loyal to the Emperor, while most loyalists distrust them for their association with the Dark Angels, though the Nine Loyalist Legions and the Inquisition know their true allegiance, with an Ordo of the Inquisition actively seeking these Space Marines of the Emperor, for the knowledge they know and the experience they have makes them a valued resource.

However the Unforgiven are often forced to find allies within xenos races; most notably the Eldar in which they share a similar goal: the defeat of the Primordial Annihilator. Both have suffered at the hands of the Dark Angels, and suffered so much for it. Though many loyalists are still willing to work with the Unforgiven, a vast majority cannot see past their heritage and declare them Excommunicate Traitoris upon learning of their origins. As for their relationship with their traitors brothers, the Unforgiven are passionately hunted by the Dark Angels due to myths which claim that the Unforgiven know why the Lion's wound refuses to heal and that they know the means to seal the Traitor Primarch's wound…

* * *

 **The Siege of Terra: The Wolf and The Lion**

It was during the Siege of Terra where the wound dealt to him by Luther proved to be the Lion's undoing. At the Siege the Lion revelled in his daemon powers, his ascension to daemonhood allowing him to perform destructive feats of immense magnitude. Despite the Arch-Betrayer ordering the Dark Angels to support the Imperial Fists and Iron Hands in the assault on the Imperial Palace, the Dark Angels instead descended upon the civilians of Terra.

The Angels of Caliban slaughtered the innocent in a manner similar to that of the massacres on their homeworld, lulling them into a false sense of security with their Slaanesh-powered glamour before revealing their true cruelty. While needlessly cruel and entirely self-serving, the plundering of Terra did serve a purpose. To draw out the ever-noble Horus, so that Lion El'Jonson could kill him, to act as a reminder of the Pantheon's power and to further cement the Prince of Pleasure own standing among the Four Kings of Damnation.

It worked all too well as Horus and Alpharius joined the fray to stop this needless massacre. While the Hydra Lord went to face off against the Lion, much to his ire, Horus went to battle Russ, who much like Manus, had denied the Lion of his true target, though this time inadvertently.

The two primarchs dueled on ancient Terra like warlords of old, and it was a clash for the ages. The Lion's sword repeatedly broke through the Hydra's spear only for it to reform, while the First Primarch blocked blows from Alpharius' Lernaean Terminators who attempted to flank him. The First Primarch's own bodyguard unit, the Lion Guard, engaged the other Alpha Legion Space Marines that stormed out of the Palace to assault the Slaaneshi Primarch in the attempt to end him. While the two demigods fought, their sons fought and bled and died. The Dark Angels gasping out joyous last breaths while their loyalists cousins could only stare on in disgust.

Despite being outnumbered two to one the Lion and his Angels of Darkness were winning. Alpharius did not possess the Lion's warrior acumen nor his mastery of bladework, preferring complex maneuverers and plans-within-plans compared to honest swordsmanship. This lacking on the Twentieth Primarch's part, coupled with the Lion's daemonic strength, meant that though Alpharius and his elite warriors held the initial advantage, it had quickly turned in the Lion's favour as more and more of the Lernaean Astartes were cut down by _the Lion Sword_ and the Last Primarch took wound after wound. Eventually _the Pale Spear_ , believed to be of xenos origin, was shattered and this time it did not reform. The Lion gloated over his smaller brother, eager to take a primarch's life, knowing the experience would be exotic.

* * *

 _ **"You've lost, brother,"** the Lion rasped, hints of eternal pain and pleasure pouring from his maw, sending mortal soldiers mad with lust. **"Father shall be dragged from His throne kicking and screaming. And then we shall tear Him asunder. You fight for the past and so you belong in it."**_

 _"You believe yourself the future, you impudent arse," came the pained voice of Alpharius. "You've always been a bloated, prideful maggot, Lion. Now you're just a worm, scurrying in the faeces of the warp. You are weak, Lion El'Jonson."_

 _The Lion blazed with fury and reached down to break the Serpent Lord's neck but as he grasped his brother, he felt the ground shake beneath him. Footsteps, fast and thunderous, were approaching quickly from behind. But they were not heavy enough to be Titans or Knights. The Lion turned to find the source of the footsteps: Horus Lupercal._

 _ **"Beat back the Winter Wolf, did you?"** The Lion crowed, his head tilted in curiosity. **"You'll fare no better than this one,"** the First Primarch boasted, gesturing towards Alpharius. **"I am Slaanesh's Chosen!"**_

 _"No, brother," was the response from the Wolf of Luna. "You've become nothing but its slave."_

 _With a growl of frustration the Lion charged Horus and with a roar of his own Horus met his daemon brother's charge._

* * *

Horus Lupercal entered the fray to save Alpharius, having beaten back the Wolf King with _Worldbreaker_. Horus now went to face another of his brothers - though the Lion was far more swollen with the power than Leman Russ had been, and his skill was legendary - the Lion was caught off guard by the sheer ferocity of the Sixteenth Primarch. His shield and sword were smashed from his arms by _Worldbreaker_ and before he could unleash his newly acquired psychic powers, the Talons of Horus pierced his chest wound.

 _The Talons of Horus_ had tasted the blood of the First Son of Chaos, alongside many other daemons, and banished them all. The psychic power of the Talons burned through the Lion's warp-flesh, banishing him to the Immaterium. And with their gene-sire gone the Dark Angels fell into pleasure-wracked seizures, the loyalists taking advantage of their state, killing thousands. But the sensational seizures faded, and the Dark Angels returned to battle, carrying out a killing spree; attacking friend and foe alike. Before the Dark Angels could be rallied by their officers and other traitor commanders, word reached them of Sanguinius' death by the Emperor's hand. The Siege of Terra was over. The Heresy was lost.

 **Post-Heresy: Hunters and Prey**

The Dark Angels retreated from Terra fled into the Eye of Terror, finding their father reforming upon the Daemon World of Sycorax, a world in the image of Caliban, gifted to them by Slaanesh. It was here the First Primarch is entertained by a knightly court; an echo of the Order. And it is here where this grand court entertains him with a play of his rise; a mockery of a king being amused by his subjects. Many a Dark Angel has sought an audience with their primarch for his dark blessing only to be lost to the Play of The Lion and its inexorable lure.

Meanwhile, the First Legion divided itself into a multitude of warbands that raid and plunder worlds across the width and breadth of the galaxy, whether it be the Imperium's monolithic expanse, the Great Eye or elsewhere. Not only do the traitor legionnaires venture into the Imperium and the various territories of the other Traitor Legions for the intoxicating pleasure of killing and to acquire slaves and other resources, but also to hunt down the Unforgiven.

Such is the Lion's standing mandate concerning the Unforgiven, that two rival Dark Angel warbands in the midst of battle would cease hostilities if word reached them of an Unforgiven emerging into war-space nearby, setting aside their hate towards one another for the greater animosity held towards the wayward sons of the Lion. It has been reported to the High Lords of Terra that since the Great Scouring ended ten millennia ago that there had been several dozen large-scale excursions of the Dark Angels from the Eye, slipping through or temporarily overcoming the Iron Warrior-manned Iron Cage Fortress Worlds, burning and torturing a host of star systems each time and killing countless millions, all in the pursuit of an individual Unforgiven.

However, the Unforgiven are slippery prey and will make any bargain to thwart their brethren, whether it be with the Imperium or even with xenos forces, much to the Dark Angels disgust. Or else the Unforgiven will manipulate events to sow confusion or conflict amongst the Dark Angels and other outside forces. Such was the case of the Court of Blood; a most dangerous clash between the servants of Khorne and Slaanesh, occurring during late M39.

It was engineered by the Unforgiven known as Cypher. Cypher had been one of Luther's most trusted lieutenants, and was known amongst his kind as one of the most crafty and sly legionnaires in the Legion. Cypher began the ruse by claiming that he would be willing to offer an exchange of knowledge to the Chaos Lord Holguin. Despite knowing of Cypher's trickery, the warlord could not resist the chance at acquiring knowledge to heal the primarch and followed coordinates to the predetermined Daemon World.

As Holguin deployed his warband to retrieve Cypher, for he wanted to capture the Unforgiven rather than bargain with him, he instead found that he had landed upon a world recently occupied by the Iron Hands. Cypher had used ancient xenos technology to disguise the Khornate Marines positions, and the Iron Hands viewed the unannounced deployment of hundreds of Dark Angel Astartes as an act of war.

The two traitor warbands would go on to fight, and due to the complex web of alliances that are commonplace in the Eye, dozens of more warbands soon took part and the war that would be known as the Court of Blood would go on to see the deaths of thousands of Traitor Space Marines. The Court of Blood also prevented an upcoming Iron Hand Black Crusade from attacking a weakened Imperium, delaying it for close to three centuries, allowing the Emperor's Realm to recover and the Cadian Iron Cage to be reinforced. It is unknown if this was Cypher's intent or mere coincidence, but regardless the actions the loyalist Astartes took saved billions of Imperial lives.

After the initial failure to capture Cypher, the Lion himself despatched his most elite Interrogator-Chaplains to hunt down the most elusive Unforgiven, but Cypher was able to slip away once again. Since that time, Cypher has been spotted on occasion throughout the galaxy, helping Imperial forces on the verge of defeat emerge victorious and disrupting countless traitor operations too numerous to name.

Despite these setbacks and the continuing existence of some Unforgiven, the Dark Angels nevertheless are mounting more and more crusades against the Imperium, more oft than not fighting beside other Traitor Legions in a display of camaraderie rarely shown since the Great Heresy. Now as the Dark Millennium comes to a close and the Imperium is at its most vulnerable, the Lion readies his sons for the Last War, eager to tear down the empire he had once helped build.

 **Homeworld**

With Caliban lost to them by the purging and the final confrontation between the Lion and Luther, the Dark Angels found a new home within the Eye of Terror, upon the Daemon World Sycorax. The world is a realm of temptation where only those blessed by Slaanesh can leave of their own volition. It exists in a parody of the lost kingdoms of Caliban. The human tribes living on Sycorax's world-spanning forests serve the whim and entertainment of both the Dark Angel overlords and the daemons that dwell within the ominous forests, providing recruits, slaves, and sport.

It is in the grandest castle that the Lion resides. This redoubt is a majestic thing; spiralling towers, towering archways, and magnificent bridges, but temptations lurks around every corner, and in its dungeons the Unforgiven and any other who have crossed the First Legion can be found, subject to all manner of tortures and other excruciations. They are nought but toys for the Interrogator-Chaplains, who hone their skills upon the flesh and spirits of their enemies.

* * *

Interrogator-Chaplains

The Dark Angels pride themselves on their ability to make the loyal 'repent' for the crime of remaining true to the Emperor over Lion El'Jonson. It brings no greater joy to a Dark Angel to break loyal Imperials into servitude to the Prince of Pleasure. And among the Dark Angels is an order dedicated to this practice: Interrogator-Chaplains. It is they who rouse their battle-brothers to hunt down the Unforgiven and with each loyalist Angel 'repenting' the Interrogator-Chaplain responsible earns a black pearl marble, a sign of their gene-sire's favour. The Interrogator-Chaplains carry out their primarch's will across the Legion, enforcing his vision upon the Dark Angels, daring any and all to risk their unforgiving ire. To them pain is pleasure and pleasure is pain and as such they practice the breaking and rending of flesh to further enlighten themselves to Slaanesh's desires.

The Unforgiven are not the only ones to fall victim to their corruptible influence and foul charisma as Imperial Army regiments and even whole worlds have gone traitor due to the words of Dark Angel Interrogator-Chaplains. One of the worst among them is Asmodai, an Interrogator-Chaplain that accompanied his brothers in raids just after the fierce Second War of Armageddon. Many cities on Armageddon rebelled and even one of the vaunted Titans and its crew fell to his lulling. His example serves as a constant reminder of the threat of the Interrogator-Chaplains, the torturer-champions of the First Legion. It is not uncommon for Interrogator-Chaplains to relish the capture of loyal Space Marines in the hopes of breaking them. Though every loyal legionnaire initially refuses to give in, with a majority of them dying still loyal to Him on Earth, the unspeakable tortures and psychological manipulation they endure prove too much for some. Those few that do survive go on to become harbingers of pain and misery, becoming some of the vilest warriors, champions and warlords in the Eye of Terror.

* * *

Revuel Arvida, The Blood Raven

The first and greatest conversion-through-torture attained by the Dark Angels has undoubtedly been the corruption of Revuel Arvida, former Sergeant of the Thousand Sons. Several years into the Heresy, Arvida was captured by the Dark Angels and under the supervision of Interrogator-Chaplain Nemiel, the Thousand Son was broken both in body and mind. By the time the Dark Angels returned from their sojourn to Iydris, Revuel Arvida had renounced all loyalty to the Emperor and sworn allegiance to Tzeentch. Now calling himself the Blood Raven, Arvida fought alongside the Dark Angels until the end of the Siege. During the Scouring, Arvida formed his own warband, named after his self-bequeathed title, and has since become a major threat to the Imperium.

The Blood Ravens are a constant worry for Imperial forces, because in spite of their relative small size, they field powerful sorcerers and know many secret rituals and weapons that could bleed the Imperium dear if unleashed. Whenever the Blood Ravens appear in Imperial space, either searching for forbidden knowledge or unearthing long forgotten artefacts, the Imperium immediately despatches forces to investigate and ascertain. The Thousand Sons and the Inquisition closely monitor the galaxy for any mention of these Traitor Astartes, trying to decipher their actions which more oft than not leads to madness among the weak-minded.

* * *

 **Organisation**

The Dark Angels are an oddity among the Traitor Legions, despite their father's absence due to his millennia-long observance of the Play of The Lion, for they still remain a largely coherent Legion. This is in part due that despite their cruelty, the Dark Angels were vaunted for their ability of cohesion. That and the Lion's Interrogator-Chaplains keep the Legion from fracturing like the Imperial Fists or Iron Hands. Despite this, the Lion's gaze is not everywhere and it is not uncommon to see warband-orders become so prideful that they depart from their Legion in search of their own prey.

Each warband has both a lord and an Interrogator-Chaplain. The Interrogator-Chaplains forever keep a watchful eye for the Unforgiven, and are not above suspecting their own brothers. After all, it is not uncommon for the Unforgiven to sway the more feeble-minded battle-brothers for a simple cache of Eldar soulstones. The Interrogator-Chaplains strive to ensure that none of their brothers give into to such base lusts; often through the threat of becoming the latest victim to their morbidly named Blades of Reason. In spite of the Interrogator-Chaplains' threats and actions, many Dark Angel legionnaires seek Eldar soulstones, for they are deemed more prize-worthy than even bringing an Unforgiven to repentance.

The Dark Angels follow a rigid hierarchy, similar to that of the knights of Caliban. Each warband has a lord known as the Grand Master, and each Grand Master has a Captain as his second, with various lieutenants and sergeants commanding platoons and squads within the warband-order. These warbands can vary from as small as a hundred Astartes to upwards to a thousand, depending on the Grand Master's charisma and battle-prowess. Supplementing the warband are typically Slaaneshi cultists of the Lost and the Damned, outfitted with advanced traditional and daemonic weaponry. However, the position of Grand Master is not a rank to be doled out, but a title the ambitious and cunning are encouraged to mercilessly seize. It is not uncommon for Captains to challenge their Grand Masters for their rank, and such duels often end with the loser's hearts being devoured. As for the Interrogator-Chaplains, they act as the Lion's eyes and ears, as well as the hunters for the Unforgiven. With but a mere word they can alter the path of a warband if they believe it will lead them to a goal greater than whatever the Grand Master originally sought.

* * *

Azrael, Knight of Thorns

A young Grand Master of high regard, Azrael is one of the most dangerous and active Dark Angel warlords in the 41st Millennium. The creature known as Azrael first encountered the Dark Angels as a child taken as a slave during a foray into Imperial territory. Azrael proved to be a strong and resolute boy, whose cunning saw him become the personal attendant to a Space Marine. Appointed to the vaunted position as cup-bearer of the warband's Captain, Azrael planted seeds of doubt and greed into the Captain's mind with honeyed words. He hoped that the Captain would kill the Grand Master and act as a vessel of his revenge. Though the Captain died in the attempt, Azrael was made into a Space Marine, for the Grand Master saw who really plotted his death and respected the cunning it took to carry out.

This proved to be his undoing as Azrael's ambition was monstrous and Slaanesh encouraged such deeds. It did not take long for Azrael to ascend to the command ranks of the warband before taking both his Grand Master's title and heart. And so, the Knight of Thorns rose. Slaanesh's favour is clear in Azrael, as his armour morphs with its blessing, flaying the Chaos Lord incessantly, causing pleasure and pain in equal measure. While his blade, _Rapturous Intent_ devours the souls of those it slays, growing in length and the daemon within grows more powerful. _The Flayed Armour_ and daemon-possessed power sword act as symbols of Azrael's favour with both the Lion and the Prince of Pleasure. Many loyal servants of the Emperor have tried to claim his head but all fail, for it seems that Slaanesh is not done with the Knight of Thorns. And there's more cruelty for the Chaos Lord to reap on a galaxy reeling from a thousand wounds already laid against it...

* * *

 **Combat Doctrine**

The Dark Angels frequently employ tactics tried and true during the Great Crusade, named after lore from Caliban's rich mythology. Tactics such as the Beastslayer heavy assault and the Scourge of Caliban's many-pronged attack have seen to Imperial defenders broken by the relentless Traitor Astartes, with the survivors hunted down and only rarely killed, typically put into slave camps for the amusement of the hedonistic traitor legionnaires.

When enough of the First Legion wages war in their primarch's or god's name, the Lion will deploy his two favoured warband-orders: the Deathwing and the Ravenwing. The Deathwing are a veteran unit entirely equipped with ancient marks of Cataphractii Tactical Dreadnought Armour, their specialties involve shattering enemy fortifications and storming through the corridors of enemy voidships. The Ravenwing use their fast bikes and rare Land Speeders to sow confusion among the enemy, cutting off their lines of communication and supply, and to hunt down any who attempt to flee. These two orders, alongside the primarch's Lion Guard, act as the elite shock troops of the Legion, who when not deployed, act as the wardens of Sycorax.

 **Beliefs**

Firm believers in the Path of Pleasure, all Dark Angels worship the foul god Slaanesh, the one who was responsible for their fall, and now they glorify it with each kill. Each act of decadence and cruelty is in its name, and to the Dark Angels no greater prize could be offered to Slaanesh than that of Eldar soulstones. And so many of the Lion's bloodline prowl the Webway, hoping that they will stumble upon Eldar to slaughter, and this practice has made them foes of the Harlequins of the Laughing God.

 **Recruitment and Geneseed**

Recruitment in the Eye of Terror is difficult as the Great Storm's very nature mutates the human genome in unpredictable ways, limiting the pool of candidates, forcing every Traitor Legion to continuously bring in fresh stock of slaves taken from the Imperium to replenish and strengthen the mortal gene-pool. The Dark Angels prefer to recruit amongst the human tribes of Sycorax, but also select recruits from newly acquired slaves, choosing the most sadistic male children for potential recruits, especially those who murdered their own parents, while the weak either become Legion serfs or are left to die in the Daemon World's deadly forests. If they survive the many trials of a Neophyte, they are then transformed into the transhuman Initiate. From there they begin the long and painful ascension in the Legion's ranks, with the gene-seed implementation known to be incredibly painful, the agony purposefully heightened by the Legion's Apothecaries to appease and honour Slaanesh.

 **Battlecry**

Often the Dark Angels use the common battlecries: "For the Lion!" or "Pain and Pleasure both!" Though when hunting the Unforgiven it is not uncommon to hear the cry of: "The Lion's claws have caught his prey!" or "The repentance will be wondrous!"

An oddity of note is those cries of the Unforgiven on the battlefield as despite their status as renegades of a sort to most of the Imperium, it is not uncommon for them to continue to use the rallying cry: "For the Emperor!" or "Caliban will be avenged!" when facing the Dark Angels.

* * *

 _The Webway stank of foulness, reeking of decay and disuse. A lone warrior traversed its endless tunnels, some the width of a Land Raider, others large enough to allow battle-barges to traverse with ease. At a four-way intersection, he stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts on which direction to take when a wave of fatigue struck him, causing him to slump against the curved walls. The warrior was tired, so very tired._ _He knew time passed differently here than it did in real-space but how long exactly, he wasn't sure. Sometimes when awaking from the brief snatches of sleep he was able to get, he felt as if the War within the Webway had been fought just weeks ago, while other times it felt like lifetimes had come and gone since that fateful final day._

 _The day his journey began. It was impossible to tell the comings and goings of days as the Webway was perpetually the same in terms of lighting and atmosphere, barring those so damaged by time or corrupted by Chaos, areas he tended to avoid at all costs. Not even his armour could reliably tell the time, though whether it was due to the Webway's very nature or the fact he had been forced to lobotomise certain armour systems to retain the functionality of others, he wasn't sure._

 _He remembered the last battles, the defence of the Webway Gate. He could see it now in his mind's eye: one of his last loyal brothers calling out to him to make it to the Gate before it closed forever, the hordes of daemons swarming over the few Custodes and Silent Sisters who had remained behind to bide time, the cleansing golden light that had brought him to Terra fading as He returned His full attention to the Throne, and the feeling of hopelessness as the Gate was sealed just prior to the daemons reaching it and the knowledge that he was all alone._

 _How he survived those first few days, let alone those first few hours, was unbeknownst to him. The aged warrior had fought, oh how he fought, against the Neverborn that infested the Webway's corridors and even Traitor Space Marine hunter-killer teams, most notably Dark Angel squads commanded by debased Interrogator-Chaplains. He had even seen and faced his loyal brother's true cousin, barely managing to escape the Slaaneshi Astartes with his life._

 _The desire to sleep came upon him and he fell to the ground, eyes closing and mind wondering whether he would ever wake up._

 _The warrior dreamed of the paradise lost, the dream of Mankind broken by the treachery of fallen angels, and the soul-scream of an empire besieged on all sides deafened him. But underneath that cacophony of torment and desperate pleas for salvation, he heard whispers, muted but clear. They told him where to go. This was the Voice that had guided him since being trapped in the Labyrinthine Dimension and he had learned to trust it._

 _Awakening with a start, he rose once more, hand tight on his power sword's grip, and took the left tunnel, following the path imprinted onto his mind. He knew that his destination was close, that his freedom was soon to be at hand. The warrior just had to keep pushing himself, he had to survive._

 _"By the Emperor," he muttered, "I will return."_

* * *

A/N: The First Legion is now done! And I hoped you all enjoyed the twisting of chivarly.

Please remember to leave a review as they are appreciated, enjoy your day and see you next time!

EDIT: Hope you enjoy the newly expanded chapter done with the aid of my great beta-reader Tanner151. Also there some awesome Sanguinary Heresy tribute videos done by Lord Caedus, check them out they're pretty sweet.


	3. Index Astartes: Emperor's Children

**Emperor's Children: Scions of the Phoenician**

 _Scholars, artisans, philosophers, and renowned warriors, the Emperor's Children are sons of one of the greatest of primarchs: Fulgrim of Chemos. The Phoenician was deemed more a poet than a warrior when originally discovered, but soon proved his mettle on the fields of war. The Sanguinary Heresy changed him and his sons, however, turning them from a Legion of artists into the bane of traitors. Now, the Third Legion is looked on in wonder as the pinnacle of what the Emperor intended for His Angels of Death. Despite their father's disappearance during the Great Scouring, the Emperor's Children remain ever vigilant in preserving the Imperium. Despite all the achievements and accolades the Third Legion has acquired in over ten thousand years of faithful service, their record is not unblemished. Fabius Bile, once Chief Apothecary of the Third Legion during the Great Crusade, is one of the most notorious Traitor Astartes and has been a prime target since the War of the Abominates waged in the Heresy's aftermath. But the hunt for Bile is just one of many responsibilities the beloved Legion faces. As the Dark Millennium nears its apocalyptic end and the hordes of Mankind's enemies clamour at the Imperium's borders, the Emperor's Children ready themselves for the wars to come._

* * *

 **Origins**

After the conquest of Terra, the Emperor looked upon His work and was pleased with the results. But despite bringing the homeworld of Mankind under His leadership, there was still a great task ahead of Him. It was a task so important and vast that He would need the aid of many to complete and so the Emperor created His twenty sons; each born of His flesh and spirit. It was inside a secret underground laboratory on Terra, under the tightest security, that the primarchs were gene-crafted; twenty beings of great power made in accordance to His designs. But before His children could inherit their birth-right, they were cast out among the stars by the Ruinous Powers; for fear of what a unified, galactic Imperium based on reason and logic could do.

And so the sons of the Emperor were violently ejected into the warp in the hopes that the worlds they landed upon would kill them or render them susceptible to the whispering of daemons. The Third Son was but an infant, peculiar given his brothers having emerged from their life-capsules as young teenagers. The world he landed upon was Chemos, the dying world of twilight.

Once, the planet had been a rich mining world, supplying nearby star systems with a plethora of mineral resources, but the effects of the Old Night had laid it low. Cut off from its trade network with other worlds, the Chemosians soon began to starve, with no way to sustain themselves on the meagre foodstuffs they were able to grow. This mass starvation forced them to eat the recycled refuse cast out from the factories. As for the factories themselves; they were once great fortresses that had dotted the landscape but had become hollowed half-functioning sprawls during the Age of Strife.

Those few that lived toiled inside these city-factories, working hard every hour of every day in the vapour mines and synthesisers to scratch out a barely liveable existence. Many pleasures and non-essentials were sacrificed as the world's infrastructure collapsed and society declined. Even art and culture fell victims, the effort once spent on these redirected to growing food or maintaining the few fortress-factories still functioning; all in order for Chemos to survive another next year. Scavenger crews were despatched outside the city walls to seek out deposits of supplies and working machinery to bring back to help sustain Chemos' dying industry.

And it was such a crew of three workers that found the child of the Emperor. The three were sent to investigate a meteor impact upon the world; such precious rocks from the stars were a resource too valuable to ignore.

Instead, they found the life-pod and within it the infant primarch. The three debated among one another about what should be done with the child. One argued it would be a mercy to kill him and spare the child of the life of hard labour that inevitably awaited him if he was allowed to live. The other two vehemently argued with this, threatening physical violence that would have dangerous consequences. This indeed would have happened if not for the child himself.

The babe began to cry, drawing the attention of all present and quelling the argument. It was then the trio noted the stream of water, caused by the life-pod's crash. And it was then that the Third Primarch earned his name; Fulgrim: bringer of water, born of the ancient creation myth of Chemos. Fulgrim was brought back to Callax, the factory from which the workers came from, and it was there he began to work among the beaten people of a dying world.

As the boy grew, many noticed that he was not human in the traditional sense. At the age of five he dwarfed a good many of his fellows, and could work more efficiently and far longer than everyone else due to his strength. When the opportunity presented itself, Fulgrim would spirit away from Callax to explore Chemos and the husks of its past. That, or listen to the stories the older workers would tell one another, recounting the half-forgotten history of their world. These discoveries he made and the stories he heard merely drove the primarch to not only preserve but to heal his broken world.

His genhanced intelligence proved vital in this, as at the age of ten he'd already learned the complex understandings of the factories he worked and came to rule Callax as its Premier Executive, allowing the fortress-factory to grow and prosper under his management. Fulgrim knew of the miracle of his own birth, and the stream of water his life-pod bore. So, Fulgrim deduced, there was still life under the crust of Chemos. The vast subterranean water reservoirs discovered shortly afterwards would become the lifeblood that brought new life to Chemos. As Callax flourished, Fulgrim's searches took him far and wide across the planet. Lost mines and farms were reopened and reseeded, and soon enough other fortress-factories bowed to the genius saviour that was resurrecting the Chemos of old.

Fulgrim did not merely oversee his workers; instead the primarch toiled alongside them as he saw that despite being superior to them in every conceivable way, mortal humans were still his people. With his charisma, intellect and vision, industry once again grew positively, resources soon making their way across Chemos and even to several nearby star systems, bringing a golden age to Chemos. With the matter of potential extinction solved, Fulgrim enlightened the people of Chemos to their world's past, reigniting interest in culture and art as the planet's new age began.

It was then the Emperor found his son and found himself impressed by Fulgrim. Not only had he unified his dying world almost bloodlessly, he had brought culture and art to a world that had long forgotten such things. These talents would be useful in the years to come; for the Emperor did not wish to bring the worlds of Mankind to heel through force and violence alone. The talents of Fulgrim and his appreciations of art would be most useful and the Phoenician's compassion was one of his defining traits.

Upon meeting the Emperor, Fulgrim recognised Him as his father and bowed to the Master of Mankind in reverence and respect for who He was. The primarch took the Emperor on a tour of Chemos, showing his creator all that had been done to save and resurrect Chemos.

* * *

 _Fulgrim led his father across Chemos reborn, admiring the vibrant resurgence in the earth and its people. The pair walked to the top of one of the many hills that dotted the landscape. Fulgrim strode with a passion, a smile of pride and accomplishment upon his features as he stared on in wonder at his works. Glancing back at his father, he saw the Emperor sitting upon a rock. Despite a physical appearance that appeared no older than a man in his early forties, there was a sense of agelessness to Him. His creator gestured for Fulgrim to sit beside Him and Fulgrim obeyed._

 _The pair watched a farmer toil his field below and the Emperor smiled at the sight of grass growing out of the hill and crops sprouting out of the ground. And while both grew in simple patches it was no doubt more than what this world has seen in a very long time._

 _"Wondrous work, my son," praised the Emperor, a gentle smile upon His face. "Are you proud of what you have done?"_

 _Fulgrim cast a look at his father in befuddlement. "Of course father. But -"_

 _"But?"_

 _"But I am more proud of the people," Fulgrim gestured to the farmers that worked far below. "Once they tirelessly laboured to eke out an existence, caring little for their past and world. Why would they? It was dead. But now they brought fresh life to it. Reborn and remade from the ashes of old, like a phoenix."_

 _The Emperor nodded a satisfied smile across his face. "Never forget that, my son. We must never forget for why we strive to this goal. We do it for them and when we work as one - well, even dead worlds can be made anew."_

 _"Yes, father," Fulgrim agreed, quietly wondering if this was some form of test. "We do it for them. As one."_

 _A moment past and Fulgrim felt as if his words carried an air of destiny, and for the briefest moment he swore that his father was no longer the golden warrior-giant but an old man. One not burdened by ensuring the survival of a species or building the greatest human empire to exist, but rather an old man simply enjoying the breeze of Chemos. In seconds the old man was gone, and the warrior-giant Emperor smiled at Fulgrim._

 _"Come, son," the Master of Mankind declared, rising to His feet. "I have no doubt you have so much more to show me."_

* * *

Chemos was welcomed into the Imperial fold without issue; its many resources soon aiding many nearby worlds in recovering from Old Night. The Emperor brought Fulgrim to Terra aboard the Bucephelus, enlightening the newfound primarch with the ideals He held dear and the plans He had for the Imperium. When the Imperial flagship arrived to the Throneworld, the Phoenician was taken to his sons, only to find that the Third Legion had recently been decimated by means unknown to a mere two hundred legionnaires. The reasons are unknown by the modern Imperium, but unconfirmed murmurs of costly compliance campaigns, xenos sabotage, or gene-seed corruption are mentioned in documents hailing from the Great Crusade but their legitimacy is subject to debate. Whatever caused 'The Lost Tithe' is unknown, but it is confirmed that Fulgrim was undaunted by the near-extinction of his sons. He was used to bringing life to things many deemed dead.

Some in the Administratum had whispered that the III should be dismantled and its war-fleet and equipment be transferred among the Legions, but Fulgrim's discovery had ceased such talks.

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"My sons, I know of your uncertainty. I can see it in your faces and sense it in your souls. But know this: I will bring life back into you all. Upon our world there was a myth of a great bird that was reborn from its own ashes. And Chemos itself was reborn, from the toil of those willing to see its beauty restored. We shall follow its example set by its people and remake ourselves into something greater than before. Ours shall be a legacy of a brighter future and rebirth. For we are the Emperor's Children, and we shall rise out from the ashes!"_ \- Attributed to Fulgrim, Lord of the Third Legion, upon meeting his sons for the first time.

* * *

Many were shocked by Fulgrim's bold declaration, seeing it as swollen pride. But the Emperor did not mind and gladly indulged His son; cementing the name the Third Legion had long referred itself since the Proximan Betrayal. As a sign of the Emperor's favour, the Third Legion was given the right to wear the Palatine Aquila upon their chest; an honour that remains solely with the Emperor's Children to this day. The Emperor could only watch on in pride as Fulgrim quickly adapted his Legion to its new heraldry and soon enough the III stood ready to make their mark upon the Great Crusade.

Though despite the enthusiasm of Fulgrim, the Third Legion was simply too small to wage war on its own. This in turn led to the Emperor decreeing that the Luna Wolves and Emperor's Children were to work together, and it was here Fulgrim and Horus forged their renowned bond.

Fulgrim and Horus became fast friends; Horus acting as a teacher to Fulgrim in matters of war, while Fulgrim enlightened Horus to the joys of art and culture, something which the gang-lord of Cthonia found most intriguing. And despite their sons being polar opposites, the two Legions worked alongside one another in a wonderful synergy. This bond has lasted to this day; the two Legions are always willing to come to the others aid if needed.

After decades of fighting alongside the First Found, Fulgrim and the Third Legion had finally grown to the point where they could wage independent compliance campaigns without risk of extinction. The Emperor's Children then divided into several contingents to lead various Expeditionary Fleets, with the primarch leading the 28th Expeditionary Fleet with over half of the Legion. So began the long and glorious honour roll the III acquired during the Great Crusade. Despite being one of the smaller to mid-sized Legiones Astartes, the III attained an impressive service record that many aspired to mirror. Their appreciation and support of art was legendary across the Imperium, only surpassed by their skill in bladework and their pursuit of perfection. For over a century the III carved a path through the galaxy, bringing thousands of worlds to compliance either through conquest or diplomacy, exemplifying all virtues and traits that made the Emperor's Children beloved by the mortal masses across the Imperium of Man.

It was during the Crusade's first century when Fulgrim met Ferrus Manus. Both primarchs had journeyed to Terra, Fulgrim to meet his Legion and Manus to better his ties with the Mechanicum. Shortly after Fulgrim officially took on the roles and responsibilities of a primarch of a Space Marine Legion, the Phoenician met his Medusan brother in the forges beneath the Ural Mountains. There the Third Primarch challenged the Tenth to craft the greatest weapon ever forged. For months the two demigods toiled away, tirelessly and ceaselessly, until at last they had finished. Fulgrim had crafted a great thunderhammer called _Forgebreaker_ whilst Manus had made a perfectly balanced power sword he named _Fireblade_.

Both primarchs declared the other's as the better weapon and promptly exchanged them, sealing their friendship. Magnus and Fulgrim likewise bonded over a love of culture and art. Roboute Guilliman and Fulgrim befriended over how they remade their respective homes. Fulgrim marvelled at Guilliman's empire, and the Lord of Ultramar likewise praised Fulgrim for his ability to remake a world that even he would have considered a lost cause.

However, not all of Fulgrim's relationships were as stable as those. Jaghatai Khan and Fulgrim despised one another. As for Angron and Russ, Fulgrim looked down on them. He viewed them as little more than glorified attack dogs; something which very much annoyed the two primarchs, as both were born of proud warrior cultures. Sanguinius and Fulgrim got along splendidly Fulgrim not regarding Sanguinius a mutant for his wings, something which doubtlessly strengthened their bond. Some would say Fulgrim was as close to Sanguinius as Horus was to the Angel. A shame the Phoenician was not more vocal in that regard, as perhaps with the aid of his brothers Sanguinius might not have fallen. And perhaps the tensions of the primarchs would never have come to such a violent clash.

Though Fulgrim did not take part in the Ullanor Campaign, the Phoenician was recorded as having attended the Triumph, becoming a firm supporter of Horus' ascension to Warmaster, publicly and privately congratulating his Cthonian brother. Horus, wanting to cement his position as Warmaster, ordered two of his closest brothers to undergo campaigns to showcase the Warmaster's authority and the loyal obedience of the Legions to their new commander. Jaghatai Khan and the White Scars were despatched to hunt down the remnants of the Ullanor Orks, who had concentrated around the volcanic world of Chondax. The Emperor's Children were sent deep into hostile space to engage with the xenos species known as the Laer.

The Laer inhabited a remote part of the galaxy, having established a small star empire centuries, if not millennia, ago. Though numbering no more than a score of worlds, the Laer presented a formidable obstacle to Imperial efforts in the region, with analysts predicting it would take years, if not decades, to successfully defeat the xenos. Some whispered the Laer should be peacefully integrated into the Imperium as a protectorate, something which disgusted the Emperor's Children. Fulgrim, proud of the fact that Horus had presented him with such a worthwhile challenge, boldly claimed it would take but a standard Terran month of thirty days to exterminate the Laer. Many detracted the Phoenician for his claim, calling it arrogant and boastful, but the Third Primarch ignored such remarks, knowing he held the Warmaster's and Emperor's support.

Gathering his entire Legion, around one hundred and ten thousand legionnaires, the Phoenician crafted a daring battle-plan, intent on making his ambitious claim a reality. After weeks of crafting it, which inadvertently prevented the primarch and his sons from taking part in the Nikaean Conclave, Fulgrim unleashed his Astartes.

In quick succession, through the application of surgical strikes and overwhelming force, the III dismantled the Laer Empire, cutting worlds off from one another before landing several companies of legionnaires that led other Imperial forces in the extermination of the strange xenos. Within a week, the empire was destroyed, all but one world: the xenos homeworld of Laeran, an Ocean World dotted with archipelagos and floating artificial island-cities. Knowing this would the ultimate test of determining his Legion's perfection of war, Fulgrim forwent all support from the Mechanicum and Imperial Army, using only Space Marine assets in the assault on Laeran.

It was during this planetary-wide invasion that Fulgrim came face to face with the Laer for the first time, having spent the rest aboard his flagship Pride of the Emperor overseeing the war. The xenos were the dark counterparts of the Emperor's Children, a cosmic parody of the Emperor's gene-skill. The Laer prized perfection in all forms of life, similar to the Chemosian Astartes, and through the use of genetic and chemical manipulation many individual Laer xenos were modified into a designated role: worker, soldier, administrator, and even artist. These creatures truly reminded Fulgrim of Chemos and its rigid adoption to determined roles in society. Fulgrim swore he would end this vile race to prove humanity's - and his own - perfection over such beasts.

Though their empire had fallen swiftly, the Laer defended their homeworld with tenacious ferocity. Days became weeks and casualties mounted, but the Children of the Emperor persevered and the last xenos bastion on their world, an artificial island-city, was destroyed. The last centre of resistance, a temple to their serpentine god, was destroyed from orbit on advice of the Chief Librarian who stressed the area was mired in warp-energy, joining the rest of their civilization as nothing more than ash and corpses.

* * *

 _The blade fell through the ocean's depths, the chill and pressure mounting with every metre. The mind within the blade was furious and contemplative. It had been given a simple task by the Dark Prince. Enrapture then corrupt the Anathema's Third Creation, act as a source of selfishness and self-obsession that would lead the demigod into the bosom of Slaanesh._

 _It had failed._

 _But at it fell upon a coral reef, its mere presence enriching the colours and driving the fish into ecstasy-driven murder, polluting the water with their blood, a vision came from its master. One of the Anathema's warriors would in time retrieve it and would be wielded in wars innumerable. The vision placated the daemon blade._

 _Soon, it would be salvaged from the ocean; soon, it would bring agony and despair to countless innocents, and Slaanesh would be pleased and it would rise in its god's favour._

* * *

Though almost all Children of the Emperor were repulsed by the xenos, there was one who was instead intrigued by them: Chief Apothecary Fabius Bile. Bile believed that the secret to curing himself of the Blight, the gene-seed flaw that nearly destroyed the III at the dawn of the Great Crusade, was hidden in Laer biology. The Chief Apothecary proceeded to dissect Laer corpses and discover the secrets hidden within them.

When Fulgrim found out, the primarch and his Phoenix Guard hunted the rogue Apothecary but were unable to prevent Bile from fleeing Laeran orbit, disappearing into the warp aboard his personal cruiser _Pulchritudinous_. Before Fulgrim could pursue the wayward Child of the Emperor, an astropathic message from Terra reached the Phoenician, stunning him with its contents: Sanguinius, the noble Golden Warrior of Baal and admired Angel of Blood, had fallen into treachery, leading the Blood Angels, Dark Angels, Imperial Fists and Iron Hands into rebellion against the Emperor.

 **The Heresy: The Phoenix and the Hawk**

Fulgrim, typically known as a beloved and charismatic figure whose patience and cool temperament were renowned through the Imperium, fell into a rage at the betrayal. The primarch ordered the Emperor's Children to make haste towards the Isstvan System to corner and defeat the traitors and remove the taint of treachery from the Legiones Astartes.

En route to Isstvan, Fulgrim declared to his sons that their actions during the Laer Campaign and their steadfast loyalty to the Emperor showed that they had reached His perfection and that they must maintain it lest it erode under carelessness.

The Emperor's Children were one of the last to join the Retribution Armada that had assembled on the edge of the Isstvan System. While Fulgrim had befriended most of his brothers during the Crusade, the presence of Jaghatai Khan caused some initial tension but the two were able to set aside their personal dislike of the other for the duration of the battle to come. Modern Imperial scholars are unsure of why the Third and Fifth Primarch detested one another so, but it is believed to be that the Phoenician viewed the Warhawk and his ilk as uncultured barbarians, unfit for the era to come after the Great Crusade. Some point to the Kalithou Incident where the two primarchs fought alongside one another against a notorious native xenos race, but during the victory feast the two demigods came to blows. The only reason the Kalithou Incident did not lead to violence between the Emperor's Children and White Scars was due to the intervention of Magnus.

Whatever the case, the two primarchs and their sons detested the other but were able to put aside their differences for the crisis at hand. By the time the Retribution Armada reached Isstvan V, the world where the traitors had entrenched themselves, a battle-plan had been formed and agreed to by all. The seven assembled Legions would divide up into two waves. The first would establish and secure a landing zone whilst simultaneously bottling the traitors in the Urgall Depression. The second wave, once signalled, would land to reinforce and lead the drive to overwhelm the traitor lines. Fulgrim volunteered to lead the first wave, his brothers Mortarion and Alpharius joining him in the initial assault. Now in high orbit, the Emperor Children's readied to deliver the Emperor's vengeance.

The Emperor's Children, Death Guard and Alpha Legion landed en masse on Isstvan V, quickly establishing a beachhead. While the Alpha Legion secured the landing zone, the Death Guard and Emperor's Children assaulted the traitor entrenchments.

The Barbaran and Chemosian Space Marines overran the rebel entrenchments, taking heavy causalities in the initial advances. Their goal was the anti-air flak cannons and surface-to-air-missile turrets that would cause havoc on the second wave, just as they had on the first. Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus met on the battlefield and their fight drew the eye of all present. Though neither was killed, both suffered wounds before being forced apart.

After hours of fierce fighting, the weapon emplacements were destroyed and Fulgrim called for the second wave to make planet-fall. The four Legions did so and the three Legions of the first wave withdrew to resupply and to join their reinforcements for the final push against Sanguinius and his allies. But the Salamanders, Raven Guard, White Scars and Ultramarines had switched their allegiances and opened fire on the Alpha Legion, Death Guard and Emperor's Children, killing tens of thousands within minutes. The loyalists, reeling from this sudden betrayal, withdrew to secondary drop-sites, harried all the way by traitor gunfire.

Amidst the carnage, the Phoenician was attacked by the Warhawk.

* * *

 _Fulgrim parried another swipe from Jaghatai's talwar, but was forced backwards. He knew himself to be the better swordsman, but his body was wounded from his battle with Ferrus, and his soul was wearied by the extent of the betrayal. Though he had been able to fend off the Iron Hand Primarch, it had cost him dear; wounded by the very weapon he had forged so long ago._

 _And just as he and Ferrus had separated, the newly arrived second-wave Legions revealed where their loyalties now lay. In the chaotic retreat to a more defensible location, Jaghatai had appeared out of nowhere, akin to a whirlwind. What remained of his Phoenix Guard had been cut down by the Khan and his Keshig and Fulgrim found himself cornered by the Chogorian Primarch._

 _The sun-weathered face of Jaghatai sneered at Fulgrim. The two continued to parry but Fulgrim was ever on the defensive. All around them legionnaires from both sides fought and died amidst the black sand of Isstvan V. It was a massacre, the traitors reaping the greater tally._

 _"I have dreamed of this day, brother," Jaghatai snarled. "How does it feel to be sullied, to be brought low? You always considered yourself our better, but look at you now!" The Khan stabbed forward, scraping through Fulgrim's armour and cutting deep into his flank. Fulgrim winced, the wound already closing but his defence was weakening. Soon his traitorous kin would find an opening for the killing strike. "You are no better than me. You never were. Despite all the preening and posturing, you are nothing but a prideful, arrogant peacock."_

 _Fulgrim wanted to retort but couldn't dare risk losing his concentration. They continued to fight and Jaghatai continued to press. Though the Khagan took some wounds, Fulgrim took more. Fulgrim knew he had only moments to live. As he gathered his strength for a suicidal assault, he saw a cloaked figure of death approaching them and felt relief. Jaghatai noticed and spun to block Mortarion's initial swing of his manreaper. As the two became locked in their engagement, Fulgrim attempted to assist but Mortarion's raspy voice whispered from the vox._

 _"You are in no shape to help. Go, I'll deal with this one. Rendezvous with Alpharius. Save what you can." The Death Lord cut the link before he could respond but Fulgrim complied, seeing the sense in it. He forced his wounded and exhausted body towards loyalist lines. Looking back, he saw the Warhawk and the Death Lord trading blows. Jaghatai was faster but Mortarion was indomitable. As Fulgrim scaled a hill, he returned his attention to the withdrawal and evacuation of the loyalists, elements of three Loyal Legions falling back, attempting to preserve as many of their brethren as they could. No matter how they day ended, the primarch pondered morbidly, the galaxy would never be the same again. The dream of Unity was forever dead._

* * *

During the battle, Fulgrim was able to fight off not one, but two Traitor Primarchs, and was saved by Mortarion, who fought and killed the Lord of the Fifth Legion. With their primarch dead, the White Scars lost cohesion and became ineffective as the command structure of the V broke down, Lion El'Jonson just barely able to prevent them from completely routing. Meanwhile Fulgrim directed the loyalist retreat, and though he did an exceptional job, it came at the cost of Mortarion. The Death Lord, moments after killing Jaghatai, was confronted and slain by Rogal Dorn. Thankfully the Death Guard did not suffer the same fate as the White Scars due to Calas Typhon.

By day's end, the three Legions were able to escape the slaughter that was the Dropsite Massacre, but at great cost. All three Legions suffered heavy losses, but Fulgrim knew that their fight was far from over. The Shattered Legions spent the remainder of the Sanguinary Heresy slowing down the Traitor Legions.

The Alpha Legion, bolstered by elements that were not present on Isstvan V, harried traitor supply lines and interfered greatly in traitor-held space, ensuring there was no lacking of Throne-loyal rebellions across the traitors' domains. Assassinations, sabotage, and many other methods plagued the traitors. The Death Guard directly attacked the main traitor fleets, threatening to bisect the Arch-Betrayer's forces, but were quickly preoccupied by the White Scars led by Chief Stormseer Targutai Yesugei.

The Emperor's Children, now numbering less than forty thousand legionnaires, a third of their pre-Heresy strength, were ordered by Fulgrim to divide itself into small, highly mobile units, with only a handful numbering over a thousand. This was done for two reasons. One, to better attack the Arch-Traitor's flanks on a multitude of fronts and to capitalise on any weaknesses discovered at a tactical level. Two, Fulgrim could not risk the III being cornered and destroyed in its entirety. The near-destruction on Isstvan had hammered into the Chemosian Primarch the dangers of the Legion deploying together as one. These strike squadrons bled Sanguinius dear, crippling and even destroying several minor traitor fleets, and enraged the Angel Fallen to no end.

* * *

Eidolon, Lord Commander Primus of the Emperor's Children

The right-hand of Fulgrim during the Great Crusade and the Lord Commander Primus of the Emperor's Children, Eidolon is considered a paragon to which many of the Emperor's Children wish to aspire too and his name is spoken with the same reverence as Lucius the Eternal and Vespasian the Inheritor. Eidolon was close to his father, mirroring his gene-sire in all ways. Eidolon embodied the toil of the hardworking Chemosians as he began his life as a simple vapour-farmer on the Legion's homeworld. Selected by the Legion's Apothecaries, Eidolon quickly ascended the ranks of the III through rigorous focus.

Eidolon was aggressive for a warrior of the Emperor's Children, often it was joked that he was meant for the XII as he had mastered the craft of slaying foes in undignified ways. Eidolon carried a master crafted thunderhammer, a stark contrast to the power swords favoured by his brothers, and an archaeotech pistol into battle, and made use of a jump pack to strike with speed and surprise.

Eidolon was one of only a handful of ranking III officers to survive the Dropsite Massacre. When Fulgrim temporarily fragmented his Legion, Eidolon led one of the largest contingents of the Emperor's Children, securing many victories for the Imperium. Two of the most crucial battles he partook in were fighting alongside the Death Guard during the Battle of the Kalium Gate and the Battle of Catallus, preventing the XIV from being destroyed by a multi-Traitor Legion force led by Shiban Khan of the White Scars and First Captain Raldoron of the Blood Angels. Though both battles were considered a tactical defeat, it did ensure the XIV survived the Heresy, something the sons of Mortarion have been ever grateful to the Emperor's Children for, sealing bonds of camaraderie and friendship begun on Isstvan V.

Though it is known that Eidolon fought on Terra during the Siege, surviving it, and leading III forces during the Great Scouring, his fate afterwards remains unknown. It is speculated that he was lost in the War of Abominates, same as his father, though whether this meant death or disappearance is officially unknown. Rumours abound, however, of a warrior clad in the purple and gold panoply of the Emperor's Children navigating through the warp, his soul-aura that of a phoenix. This Phoenix Exemplar, as he is called, has been sighted throughout the galaxy, saving Imperial forces on the brink of collapse, using his martial skill and a sonic scream of righteous fury to defeat the enemies of Mankind. Despite this aid, the purple-clad legionnaire disappears back into the Immaterium promptly as the dust of battle settles. Whoever or whatever the Phoenix Exemplar is, he has shown himself to be loyal towards the Golden Throne and has many a time seized victory for the Imperium from the ashes of defeat.

* * *

 **The Siege of Terra: A Brother's Duel**

Despite the best efforts of the Shattered Legions and the Night Lords, the Arch-Traitor's forces reached the doorstep to Sol. After years of fratricidal warfare across the galaxy entire, Sanguinius was finally ready to invade the Sol System and attempt to dethrone the Emperor.

As the Traitor Legions assaulted Sol, overcoming the loyalist defences one by one until they reached the Throneworld, Fulgrim recalled his Legion, mustering his sons in full for the first time since the Dropsite Massacre.

All efforts to call for aid from the other Loyalist Legions met with failure. The Night Lords, having been broken at Yarant by Leman Russ and his Wolves, were unable to respond, while the Death Guard were so scattered that it would take months to marshal them together. Fulgrim, knowing that his sons would be unable to turn the tide of the Heresy's final battle was nonetheless adamant that the Children of the Emperor would fight and die beside the Master of Mankind against the Angel Fallen. The primarch readied his sons for their inevitable fate, every son of the Phoenician ready to lay down their lives in the desperate attempt to preserve the Emperor's dream.

It was then, just prior to departure that reinforcements arrived from an unexpected place…

* * *

 _Fulgrim stared on in mute shock as warship after warship of two Legions long thought lost emerged from the warp. The armada assembling before him was battle-scarred, both by traditional armaments and warp-born creations. A recently arrived battle-barge sported what looked like kilometre long claw marks scarring its flank._

 _The vid-link beeped with an incoming hail. Fulgrim pushed its acceptance himself and looked on as two faces he had never thought to see again looked on at him, their golden eyes haunted by what they had witnessed in the Ruinstorm._

 _"We heard the call," Lorgar Aurelian said, fingers interlocked around an Aquila pendant. "And we have come to answer it."_

 _"Now," grunted Angron, face covered in newly earned scars, the Butcher's Nails, protruding from his skull, "let's go kill some traitors."_

* * *

Reinforced by the World Eaters and Word Bearers, Fulgrim knew that three Legions, no matter how wounded and depleted they were, would be enough to possibly turn the tide of the Siege that even then raged across Terra's surface. The three Legions entered the warp and within days had reached Sol and joined the climactic battle being waged there.

The recently arrived loyalists cut through the massive traitor armada in Terran high orbit, deploying their legionnaires into the traitors' rear lines, overwhelming them and putting great pressure onto Sanguinius. The Angel Fallen, in a desperate attempt to win the battle before the tide turned even more, gathered several of his brothers to assault the Sanctum Imperialis. Angron, Lorgar and Fulgrim led their sons into battle, with the Red Angel and the Urizen fighting their way through the traitor hordes to reach the Eternity Gate and join Horus, while Fulgrim hunted down and cornered Roboute Guilliman, a brother he had once considered a friend.

The Battle-King of Macragge had changed. Guilliman had physically aged, his once blond hair was now flecked with silver, eyes shadowed and burdened with what could only be regret and remorse. But as Guilliman locked gazes with Fulgrim as he approached, the Phoenician knew any chance of redeeming his brother was long gone. Those blue eyes had ordered countless, unforgivable atrocities in the years since the Dropsite Massacre and had seen so many die attempting to sate the bearer's treacherous ambition. And it had been the Ultramarines who had first opened fire against the loyalists on Isstvan V, their bolters causing heavy casualties amongst the Emperor's Children… and that was something Fulgrim could never forgive.

Fulgrim fought Guilliman in the ruins of the Outer Palace, but the foul blessings of the Ruinous Powers had made Guilliman more than a match for Fulgrim. Only the unmatched skill with a blade allowed Fulgrim to weather the fury Guilliman unleashed upon him. The two became locked in stalemate, Fulgrim's sword mastery preventing his defeat from the Chaos-infused primarch. For hours the two fought, landing blows but unable to deliver a killing strike. The battle between the Battle-King and the Phoenician could have continued for hours more, almost certainly ending in Fulgrim's death as he had begun to tire as more and wounds were dealt to him, if not for the efforts of Lucius, a Captain of the Emperor's Children, whose distraction allowed Fulgrim to kill Guilliman, though it cost Lucius his life, an act that would earn him sainthood.

* * *

 _He lay against a broken pillar, chest caved in from Guilliman's glancing blow. Lucius knew, even before he approached the Lord of Ultramar, that he would die. Not even a legionnaire of his skill, cunning, and luck could hope to survive more than seconds against a primarch._

 _Despite the certainty that he would die, Lucius had selflessly thrown himself at the Avenging Son, landing a glancing blow that had taken Guilliman by surprise. The distraction, no matter how minute it initially seemed, had allowed the Phoenician to land the killing blow, Fireblade having pierced the Traitor Primarch's hearts._

 _Lucius could see the life leaving Guilliman, his own primarch having fallen atop his brother, whispering something in his ear that Lucius couldn't discern. He watched as the cobalt-clad demigod died, but his satisfaction lessened as blood continued to pool around him, and he knew without a doubt he would die._

 _His vision began to darken when he noticed a figure crawling towards him. Opening his eyes further, he saw it was Fulgrim who neared him. The Phoenician, despite the many wounds afflicting him, wounds that would have killed Lucius thrice over, was magnificent, a symbol of defiance against a galaxy gone mad._

 _"Sire," Lucius croaked._

 _"My son," Fulgrim began, laying his bloodied gauntlet over Lucius sword hand, putting his sword back into his palm, allowing him to die a warrior's death. "Without you there could have been no victory here. You saved my life, Lucius, and for that you have my gratitude."_

 _Lucius felt elation at that, his breath becoming ragged._

 _"Sire, I have a final wish," he managed to say._

 _"Anything, Lucius."_

 _"I want to be remembered, I want my name to echo across eternity."_

 _Fulgrim's answer came without hesitation. "And so you shall, my son."_

 _Lucius coughed his thanks before the darkness of death overcame him._

* * *

Though Fulgrim killed Guilliman, sending the Ultramarines into disarray, the Phoenician was dearly wounded and unable to partake in the battle taking place in the Throne Room. By the time Fulgrim had recovered enough to return to battle, Horus had died, the Angel Fallen killed, and the Emperor mortally wounded and placed upon the Golden Throne. Despite the Traitor Legions fleeing Terra once word of Sanguinius' death spread, Fulgrim became melancholic, full of sorrowful regret that he had not been there to defend the Master of Mankind.

 **Post-Heresy: War of Abominates**

When the Imperium initiated the Great Scouring, the Emperor's Children were at the forefront of the Imperial counter-attack. For years the III fought in countless battles across many worlds, reclaiming star systems lost to the traitors during the Heresy.

Though the Emperor's Children helped spearhead the Scouring, seeing it as repentance for failing to protect the Emperor, they were also fervently searching for the greatest traitor to emerge from their ranks: Fabius Bile. The former Chief Apothecary had disappeared once his heinous experiments had been discovered during the Cleansing of the Laer but had resurfaced during the Heresy, supplying the Arch-Betrayer with genetically modified warriors, both transhuman and mortal. Bile had been sighted on Terra during the Siege but his whereabouts were unknown until the final months of the Scouring.

On the edge of Imperial space, Bile revealed himself but the Clonelord, one of the many titles he was becoming known for, was not alone. Bile had allied with Manus and the Iron Hands, as well as creating genetic monstrosities that insulted the perfected purity of the Emperor Children. Not only that, but the Manflayer publicly paraded Horus Lupercal's corpse across several worlds, defiling and disrespecting the First Warmaster's body. Fulgrim's love for his dead brother remained strong and he could not stomach such treatment of the First Found's corpse.

The Emperor's Children gathered in all their decimated might to kill Bile and his creations as well as recover Horus when another Legion joined them: the Sons of Horus. The Mournival-led Sixteenth Legion was eager to avenge their father and prevent any further despoiling to his person.

Now united, Fulgrim and the Mournival led their Legions against Bile and Manus in what would become known as the War of Abominates.

* * *

 _Captain Tyberius Sakaeron cut down another foul creation of Bile's. At first it appeared to be a perfect copy of a Child of the Emperor, yet its skin was luminescent and eyes bloodshot with… things moving under the skin. One hand ended in a bolter that had been melded into the heretic's arm._

 _"Brother," the creature jeered before Sakaeron's power sword cut it down. The newly raised lord commander looked skyward, seeing dozens of loyalist dropships of the III and XVI landing in perfect tandem, similar to when the two Legions fought beside one another during the Great Crusade. Over the vox he could hear Eidolon leading his shock assault squads into the centre of the Iron Hands' fortifications, the traitors bellowing at their red-handed god._

 _The Abomination Marine's body began to slowly reknit itself, tendrils of sinew shooting out and clasping the two severed halves of the heretic together. Disgusted, Sakaeron pulled out his pistol and unleashed superheated plasma unto the creature, burning it away at an atomic level. Several shots later the Abomination was nothing more than bloody paste._

 _Turning, he led his Millennial against the traitors, declaring the Emperor's and His Children's purity._

* * *

The Emperor's Children and Sons of Horus attacked the collection of worlds Manus and Bile had under their terrible rule, discovering laboratories of horrid experiments alongside killing fields where warriors of the Iron Tenth honoured Khorne by slaughtering countless millions of innocents. The two Loyalist Legions were appalled, and dutifully destroyed the gene-labs and revenged those murdered by the Khornate Astartes.

For months the two Legions liberated world after world, though the price paid was high. Soon enough the Clonelord and Blood Gorgon controlled but a single star system: Nugyemera . The III and XVI broke through the Iron Hand orbital defences, landing their Astartes on the system's sole inhabited world.

The citizens of Nugyemera had remained loyal to the Golden Throne during the darkest days of the Sanguinary Heresy, but since their world had been conquered and occupied by the Iron Hands, the Tenth Legion's Iron Fathers corrupted the masses, making them serve as a blood-crazed militia to supplement the Iron Hands' sworn Traitor Army regiments and Bile's vile creations. The loyal legionnaires cut a path to Bile central laboratory. There, while the XVI recovered their father's body, the Phoenician cornered Fabius Bile.

* * *

 _"You are not him," Fulgrim said, anger and disappointment boiling beneath his calm exterior. Blood hissed on_ Fireblade's _active power field._

 _The false Fabius Bile looked surprised that the primarch had noticed, but Fulgrim was a son of the Emperor and though he was no psyker, he knew that the Bile before him was not the real one, merely a copy._

 _"Do I disappoint you, father?" asked the clone, mad scorn clear in its eyes. It was missing a good portion of its lower body and yet still had the audacity to look upon Fulgrim as if in triumph. "Or has the realisation that I'll always escape you sunk in?"_

 _Fulgrim frowned, raising his sword before slowly lowering it._

 _The Bile-clone laughed, throat filled with blood and phlegm. "You can kill this copy, but never me, never the true me!" The laughter had descended into madness, the clone's gene-structure beginning to rapidly deteriorate, its purpose as a distraction complete._

 _"I am coming for you, my son," Fulgrim said with steel in his voice. "No matter which of my brothers you hide behind, no matter what hole you crawl in," Fulgrim leaned forward within a hand's breadth, "I will find you and I will kill you."_

 _Something which could have been mistaken for fear passed across the copied Manflayer's face but it quickly passed. "Come to me then, father. We will see which of us will be the first to burn!"_

 _"Kill it," the primarch ordered Eidolon who stood nearby, the Lord Commander Primus' thunderhammer ending the false Clonelord's life. As the death-rattle of the clone faded away, heavy footsteps, menacing and heralding murderous intent echoed from a side corridor. Fulgrim looked across the laboratory's destroyed equipment and shattered incubation pods, remembering with worry that several had held near-perfect copies of him and Horus that he had ordered the Phoenix Guard to destroy the moment they had entered the chamber._

 _Those attempts to recreate him and the First Warmaster were destroyed with fire, but Fulgrim knew the real Bile had the skill and drive to create more and that worried the Phoenician greatly. If Bile perfected the creation process… then the galaxy would suffer. It was as simple as that. But such worries dissipated, at least temporarily, when the footsteps ended and Fulgrim could see Ferrus Manus standing in the corridor entrance._ Forgebreaker's _energy field crackled, and Manus reeked of dried blood and boundless hate. The Gorgon's silver hands were gone, replaced during his ascension to daemonhood with hands of warp-flesh that sported volcanic cracks._

 _"Leave this place, save yourselves," Fulgrim said to Eidolon and the Phoenix Guard. And for the first time these sons of his defied him, ignoring the direct order._

 _"I think we shall stay here with you, lord," responded the ever-stubborn Eidolon. The face of the lord commander was wrapped in determination and thunder-hammer was grasped tightly. "We shall not leave you."_

 _ **"How loyal,"** Manus declared mockingly. **"Such loyalty saw not but suffering and limitation under the Emperor. But Khorne cares not for loyalty in exchange for power, only that the blood flows,"** Manus smiled, something almost never seen and all the more terrifying for it. **"I think it is time we settle our blood-debt begun on Isstvan. The Blood God longs for your pompous skull. As do I!"**_

 _To think this was once the brother who Fulgrim loved. He thought back on the memories made in the Ural forges, making weapons and jesting to one another. They were as close as brothers could be, until Sanguinius led Manus astray with promises of slaughter. How those memories seemed bitter now, how those memories seemed hollow. But all the pain and anguish had made Fulgrim grow stronger._

 _And he would not falter here._

 _"Ferrus," Fulgrim began, soul wearied at seeing his brother having fallen so low. It had been several long years since Isstvan V and Manus had changed only for the worse. A sigil that hurt Fulgrim's eyes to look upon burned fiery red behind the opened gauntlet of the Tenth Legion. "What have you become?" he asked sorrowfully._

 _ **"Blood for the Blood God!"** roared Manus, as he levelled his thunderhammer and charged towards Fulgrim and the Phoenix Guard. **"May these hands run forever with blood!"**_

 _Together as one the primarch and the Phoenix Guard readied themselves against the Gorgon of the Blood God. "Children of the Emperor! Death to His foes!"_

* * *

The Phoenician fought the Blood Gorgon once again whilst thousands more Iron Hands emerged from warp-tears to entrap the III and XVI Legions. Fulgrim realised that the Bile-clone was a decoy, as was the corpse of Horus, something to draw the two Legions in.

With Fulgrim and Eidolon cut off, the primarch ordered the Lord Commander of the Second Millennial, Vespasian, to evacuate the Legion and save what he could. Vespasian hesitantly agreed, heartbroken and conflicted about abandoning his father. The Emperor's Children fought across Nugyemera back to their landing zones. Despite the individual skill of each Chemosian Space Marine, the III was on the verge of being overwhelmed and destroyed until the Sons of Horus reinforced their valued cousins, allowing some to reach their dropships and evacuate. The similarities between the Battle of Nugyemera and the Dropsite Massacre were not lost upon the Emperor's Children, bitterly reminding them that pride and complacency had almost led to their destruction. The III and XVI retreated from the system, having secured a victory but also a defeat.

By the time a reinforced and enlarged Imperial fleet returned to Nugyemera, the traitors were long gone. Worried that they would find naught but their father's desecrated bones, the Emperor's Children were instead surprised to find that Fulgrim and Eidolon had not perished nor were captured, as the Iron Hands had not boasted claiming their skulls as trophies, but neither did they return to the Imperium. The few yet powerful Librarians of the Emperor's Children searched for their gene-sire but could not find him. Only the sword _Fireblade_ remained behind as a memento. It has been noted that since their duel on Nugyemera, the Blood Gorgon has yet to leave the Eye of Terror; implying that whatever took place in the battle between primarchs wounded him dearly. Though much of the Imperium has given up hope on Fulgrim's survival, believing him to be long dead, the Emperor's Children still hold to hope that their father will one day return, like his namesake, and lead them to glory once again.

As the Great Scouring soon ended, the Legiones Astartes and the Imperium at large began to recover. Bereft of their primarch and premier lord commander, it fell to Vespasian to rebuild the Emperor's Children. The III had suffered horribly since Sanguinius betrayed his father; their numbers by the cessation of the Great Scouring is estimated at around a thousand legionnaires. But this was not the first time the III had neared extinction, and it wouldn't be the last. Using procedures and precautions established by Fulgrim after his discovery, the Third Legion slowly but surely recovered.

The focus on maintaining their genetic purity and believing they had reached perfection in the eyes of the Emperor prior to the Heresy, saw the Third Legion replenish itself slowly, maintaining stringent standards and very select recruitment. It would take many centuries but in time the Emperor's Children reached their pre-Heresy strength and have rarely exceeded it since. While the other Loyal Legions expanded far past the numbers they fielded during the Great Crusade, the Emperor's Children declined to sacrifice quality for quantity. As a result, the Emperor's Children are the smallest among the Legiones Astartes, barring the Thousand Sons.

Since the Heresy, the Emperor's Children have fought across the galaxy against a multitude of enemies ranging from newfound xenos to the hated Chaos Legions. For ten thousand years they have fought without flaw, ever vigilant in their duties, partaking in the destructive War of the Beast, the Reign of Blood, the Gilthean Crusade, and countless more.

As the Dark Millennium comes to a close and the Cicatrix Maledictum severs the galaxy in half, the sons of the Phoenician are thinly spread but are willing to lay down their lives in the hope of preserving Mankind.

* * *

Fabius Bile, The Pater Mutatis

There are few within the warp who are loathed and praised as much as Fabius Bile; The Renegade of the Third, the Manflayer and the Clone-lord. Once he was the Chief Apothecary of the Third Legion, but during the early days of the Great Crusade he discovered a flaw in the 'perfect' gene-seed of the Emperor's Children. This urge to correct the Emperor's divine work planted a dark seed of ambition within Fabius. One that worsened during the campaign against the Laer. One that has led to the first variation of his New Men.

Now, he toils within the Great Eye, peddling his services to all manner of Chaos warlords and daemon-kings. Once, Slaanesh nearly held him in its grasp but against all odds, Bile slipped its leash and now pursues his diabolical ambitions in the warp. Many of his rivals would see him dead but his services have saved many a warband and empowered many powerful warlords within the Nine Traitor Legions.

When the Clonelord arrives into real-space, monsters follow in his wake. Both the Sons of Horus and the Emperor's Children desire his death and his death has been reported before; but Bile always return, ready to craft flesh and bone, but only for himself and his dreams, never solely for the Dark Gods.

* * *

 **Homeworld**

Chemos remains the homeworld of the Emperor's Children, and remains rich and vibrant after Fulgrim's restoration of the world. A verdant world with great oceans, Chemos is a centre of industrial productivity, principally done in massive multi-kilometre void stations. Very few surpass Chemos' industry, barring Forge Worlds and larger Industrial Worlds. Many of the fortress-factories were remade into sparkling city-states, though all are garrisoned by Army regiments and Emperor's Children companies in case of an invasion by Chaos warbands or xenos forces. Many tournaments take place upon the world where young aspirants hope to catch the eyes of the Emperor's Children and join their hallowed ranks.

 **Organisation**

* * *

Lucius the Eternal

Named after the martyred hero Captain Lucius who fought during the Great Crusade and Sanguinary Heresy, the position known as Lucius the Eternal was established by Fulgrim during the Great Scouring, honouring the legendary legionnaire, and act as the Legion Champion and de facto commander of the Palatine Blades.

The Eternal traverses the galaxy, hunting down some of the most detested enemies of Mankind and challenging them to personal combat. The Eternal is always a swordsman without peer among the Emperor's Children, one of the more renowned warriors in the Legiones Astartes, but even they are not immortal. Whenever an Eternal dies in battle, another is selected from the ranks of the Palatine Blades, and the legacy of Lucius the Eternal continues to grow, never fading into the forgotten vastness of history.

* * *

Since Fulgrim assumed command of the III, the Emperor's Children have been organised in Chapter-like formations called Millennials, made up of various sizes with the smallest being just over a thousand while the largest numbering nearly three thousand. However, due to the deployment of the Legion across the galaxy, it is exceedingly rare for a Millennial to take to the field as a whole, making the company the preferred unit. These one hundred transhuman units are flexible and skilled in all forms of warfare, making them more dangerous than their numbers would indicate.

There are several specialist roles within the Legion, most notably the elite swordsmen of the Palatine Blades. The III does not field Chaplains, oddly enough, as they do not see the need, which has caused some tensions with the Word Bearers but rarely does this escalate past verbal debate. Something of contention within the Third Legion has been the Librarius. For much of their early history, the III rarely fielded their Librarians, preferring them to remain at the homeworld's fortress-monastery, only doing so several years prior to the Ullanor Campaign upon the Emperor's request, but even then there were no more than a couple dozen in the entire Legion.

The sons of Fulgrim do not distrust psykers like some did, but rather did not want in in their ranks as they viewed the psyker gene as a mutation and thus not fit for human purity. Therefore these psyker legionnaires were largely isolated from their brothers until the Heresy. When daemons of the warp began to fight alongside the Traitor Legions, the Emperor's Children embraced their aetheric-gifted brothers and the Librarians of the III became honoured and valued members. Despite their newfound respect and the necessity of having psyker Astartes, the Emperor's Children Librarius is still one of the smallest among the Nine Loyal Legions, with Millennials having anywhere from a handful to a dozen.

* * *

Patroclus, Legion Master of the Third

Elderly and resolute would be the words to describe the Emperor's Children Legion Master. Patroclus is old by Astartes standards, having fought for the Imperium for over eleven hundred years and led the Legion for over nine hundreds of those years. His weather-beaten skin tells many a story of battles lost and won. But those who know of the Legion Master know that he is still a force to be reckoned with. Patroclus was marked for greatness from a young age, but his path for greatness began when he managed to avenge the death of his lord commander by slaying a monstrosity of Fabius Bile.

It was then his superiors noted his capacity for bravery and the inspiring presence he brought upon the battlefield. Forces led by him fought to the true limit of an Astartes' endurance and seized victory from the jaws of defeat time and time again. Patroclus is a gifted warrior, hunting down enemy leaders and cutting them down in duels. Xenos warlords and traitors alike have felt his wrath but it was when he cut down the Necron Overlord Ar-Sektre of the Sektre Dynasty in the ruins of Mirrigan did Patroclus gain the position of Legion Master. Now he rules Chemos with the legendary _Fireblade_ as his badge of honour, always willing to act in defence of Chemos against those that would see the home of the Emperor's Children laid low.

* * *

Each Millennial of the Emperor's Children is led by a Lord Commander, several of which fight with a thunderhammer like Eidolon of old. Each of these Lord Commanders defers themselves to the authority of the Legion Master who rules Chemos in ways akin to a planetary governor. When the Legion Master passes on his successor is often chosen from a handful of aspiring Lord Commanders who duel each other for the honour of becoming the master of the III. The role of Legion Master is an auspicious one as they see to the defence of Chemos from the forces of traitors and rarely enter combat on any other world. It is only in the worst case scenario that the Legion Master of the Emperor's Children should depart Chemos to fight on battlefields far from home, either a black crusade nears the Legion homeworld or Fabius Bile was spotted in nearby star systems.

 **Combat Doctrine**

Each Emperor's Children longs to reflect the heroes of the Heresy and their father Fulgrim. As such many of the Emperor's Sons are noted swordsmen, though several lord commanders have traded blades for thunderhammers. And due to the bonds forged through the Great Crusade, particularly the Cleansing of the Laer, the Emperor's Children are always willing to collaborate with the mortal forces of the Imperium; something which has earned them the admiration of the Imperial Army and the Imperium's common citizens.

Like many of the Loyal Legions the Emperor's Children make use of Librarians, though sparingly and do not revolve their battle-plans around them, using them as reserved weapons or when needed against any threat borne of the Empyrean. They are deemed a valuable aspect of the Legion nonetheless, with the Thousand Sons believing that it was their judgement during the Laer campaign that saved the Emperor's Children from the corrupting touch of Chaos. During combat the Emperor's Children are known for their versatility in all aspects of combat, though only the foolish face the Emperor's Children blade to blade for that is where they are at their most capable.

 **Beliefs**

 _"We arise from ashes, mighty and proud."_ \- Quote attributed to Apollus, Lord Commander of the Second Millennial, circa late-M41.

* * *

The Emperor's Children are a proud Legion, but they shoulder a mighty burden. Like their primarch, they know that only through toil can one achieve something beautiful and as such believe that the constant war for the Imperium will bring something beautiful in the end. Regarded as arrogant artists and philosophers by their less than kind cousins, the true wrath of the III is revealed when facing the Traitor Legions, especially their wayward brother Fabius Bile and his monstrosities. Though some may question and deride the III, none can deny their skill with a blade, with each Child of the Emperor rigorously trained to be the first among equals among the Loyal Legions in individual melee combat.

Something worth of note is that the Emperor's Children remain in close contact with the mortal humans of their homeworld, and when not in duty many of the legionnaires will aid the humans of Chemos in working the farms and mines of their homeworld, as well as partake in artistic fields to further the rich culture and heritage of Chemos.

 **Recruitment and Geneseed**

Most aspirants of the Emperor's Children are taken from Chemos, though some are taken from surrounding worlds. The Emperor's Children are not as widespread in picking recruits as their fellow Loyalist Legions, such as the World Eaters and Word Bearers. This is borne out of a paranoia due to the actions of Fabius Bile, for the Renegade longs to lay the Third Legion low. Tournaments are held for those wanting to gain the attention of the Emperor's Children, and when they do began their new lives as Astartes many still keep in contact with their old families. It is not uncommon for those visiting Chemos to rearm, resupply, or to take on garrison duty, many return to their mortal families to aid them in their work on Chemos, strengthening the bonds between human and transhuman.

* * *

Grukk Face-Rippa, Warlord of the Red Waaagh!

Orks are fool-hardy creatures and have been a blight on the Imperium since its forging. However, when one among their number rises to the rank of Warlord then the Ork war-machine can be a tide of green that few can weather. And one of the notorious xenos warlord was Grukk Face-Rippa.

The ork is a brute through and through, a mountain of green muscle which, even despite the lack of armour, bolter fire has trouble penetrating. Grukk has an iron will, and one bent that no matter the battle he will always win. As such he has taken to leading the horde of Orks himself, bellowing to the heavens to his xenos gods. His brutality and his capability of violence which unnerves his fellow Orks led to Grukk amassing a Waaagh! In a very short time. This Waaagh! Known as the Red Waaagh! Tears through the Sanctus Reach and does not seem to slow, and with the Knight World Alaric Prime in the way of the rampage Lord Commander Apollus of the Second Millennial has been dispatch to bring the head of the beast back to Chemos. Or die trying.

* * *

 **Battle-cry**

The battle-cry of the Emperor's Children is a simple proclamation of the fate of those who defy the will of the Emperor: "Children of the Emperor! Death to His foes!" However when faced with the monsters of Fabius or even the Clonelord himself cries of: "This death will be your last!" Or "We shall grant you Fulgrim's mercy!" can be heard.

When faced with the likes of the Iron Hands there are often no cries at all, only cool fury, but whenever they do use battle-cries when facing the Iron Tenth of the Emperor's Children: "The blood-debt will be settled! Your hands of iron shall break!" can be heard.

* * *

A/N: Goodness it's been a long time since I wrote for this hasn't, hasn't it. I can only apologize for the lack of updates as I've been distracted by my other stories or simply just couldn't find the inspirations. But I managed to drag myself out to write about the Phoenician and his sons. And I had a lot of fun with the Third Legion.

As for Fabius I did debate on making him a goodie but it seemed such a disservice to such a wonderful villain (and one of my favorites) so instead I had him be the one to clasp the Laer Blade. Though do keep in mind that this did little to corrupt him, more sped up the process if anything. I hope you all enjoyed this latest installment and please feel free to review! And, of course, enjoy the rest of your day!

EDIT: Once again a big thanks to Tanner for editing and fine tuning this chapter. In this version the War of the Abominates has been ironed out a bit more coupled with Tanner's awesome idea to have the title of 'The Eternal' to be a badge of honour to the Emperor's Children. So I hope you all enjoy this updated version and have a good day!


	4. Index Astartes: Iron Warriors

**Iron Warriors: The Stalwart Wardens**

 _Perturabo was once scorned by his brothers; deemed little more than a bitter trench-digger. But the Emperor forged all His sons for a reason and it was Him that understood the importance of Perturabo. During the Heresy the warriors of the Fourth Legion changed their lackluster reputation into a stalwart attitude which even the most ferocious of heretics could not break - not even the likes of the dark warmasters. Time and time again, they have followed the iron creed of their Gene-father and proven how indomitable they truly are in the face of heretics and traitors. And now, they spend their days as the wardens to the gates to hell; a duty they burden with a reliable ease. Watching and waiting for those foolish enough to break out of the warp and into the grasp of the Iron Cages…_

* * *

 **Origins**

The Dark Gods tossed the sons of the Emperor to the stars in an attempt to halt His plans for a united empire of Mankind. They were dispersed across the galaxy, and upon each of the worlds they were sent to their stories of legend began. Many remembrancers believe that the worlds the Primarchs were cast upon forged their outlook on life - and some argue that the primarchs became a reflection of their adoptive homeworld and even several Inquisitors centuries later believe that this was part of the plan of the Ruinous Powers. How unforgiving Inwit birthed Dorn's grim and brutal mindset or how tortures at the hand of the Dark Eldar warped Vulkan's mind on his home of Nocturne.

Perturabo's story begins with his gestation-pod sent careening down upon the world of Olympia. Like many worlds lost during Old Night, Olympia harkened back to a more baric time long before humanity ever left Old Earth. And it was upon this world the child Perturabo was found by the men of the Tyrant of Lochos: Dammekos. A cruel man that lived up to his title, Dammekos could still make out the greatness of the child in front of him, and that this child from the heavens was like nothing ever seen on Olympia. And so, Perturabo was taken into the Tyrant's household but was kept at a distance.

Perhaps the Tyrant feared Perturabo or perhaps it was simple guile that prompted such a choice. Dammekos saw Perturabo more as a tool than a son, and instructed the strange star child in the ways of Olympia and was impressed by the primarch's inherent abilities, especially when the child rapidly absorbed all that he was taught. Such was his impressive knowledge and capabilities that Dammekos soon had the young demigod taken with him on campaigns. For centuries war on Olympia had been locked in endless sieges, with neither side able to overcome the other. Perturabo was able to overcome the enemy generals with cold logic and an unforgiving mentality, planning strategies that did inefficiently waste his soldiers' lives for that decreased the Lochosian military's efficiency. It was an attitude that Dammekos very much approved of after seeing Perturabo quickly capture several nearby city-states, throwing the stalemated balance of war in Lochos' favour.

Life within the household of Dammekos was likewise in turmoil as the children of Dammekos were forced to interact with their new foster-sibling. They regarded Perturabo with the curiosity that only a child could have; confused to why someone so young was taken into battles alongside their father. Few in the household approached this strange child. All except Dammekos' sole daughter: Calliphone. She alone went to this strange star-child, this child that was already growing in both size and intellect. And it was her that brought some life into the cold Perturabo.

* * *

 _Calliphone walked through her father's home, gazing up at the great pillars that supported their palace. It was a grand thing; a reminder of who ruled this city, a sign of intimidating greatness. One that had been vastly improved by her brother: Perturabo, or as she called him 'Bo'. She spotted him across the courtyard, sitting by himself in the courtyard's centre. He'd already grown so large in such short time. Perturabo sat observing the sky as he was want to do at this point in the evening. Calliphone disliked that, it was no way to spend the evenings._

 _"Bo," she called, and when she got no answer, "Brother."_

 _That got his attention, if ever so slightly, and she could see that he was looking at her from the corner of his eyes. Calliphone let out a breath, he was always like this. Father was running him ragged with new and more ambitious battle-plans that were seeing her homeworld becoming united under a single banner. It was no way to treat him, like a machine. Her brother deserved better._

 _"What is it, sister?" he rumbled at her, remaining still as a statue. "I want to be left alone."_

 _Calliphone let out a soft laugh. "I'm afraid not, Bo. You spend far too many nights on your own. Andos and I are worried about you. You spend too much time by yourself."_

 _"Why do you care?" Perturabo grunted, his voice thick with disdain._

 _Calliphone weathered the bitter statement with the grace of an Olympian noblewoman; she merely placed her hand on Perturabo's arm. "Because you're my brother. Please come and play with us."_

 _Confusion was etched on Perturabo's face as he stared at his adoptive sister. He cast his eyes to the skies of Olympia for a second and considered saying no. But a look on his sister's face, one of sincere kindness and love, quashed that and with a resigned sigh got up to go and play with his foster-siblings._

* * *

It seems that influence of Calliphone and Andos became a positive presence to Perturabo. The three of them often spent their days enjoying each other's company around the great palace of Dammekos, and the two of them became something of a calming influence on Perturabo. It was them that Perturabo revealed his own projects to them: plans for great devices to aid not only the Tyrant, but also the people of his homeworld, and it was on their advice and support that he began work on these devices.

However the peace was not to last and soon young Perturabo was to have the burden of leadership placed upon his shoulders. The Tyrant Dammekos had many enemies among his court; many that longed for his head. And soon the leaders of rival city-states plotted with his own advisors to kill Dammekos and his family. A civil war soon broke out among the city of Lochos, one which claimed the life of both Dammekos and his eldest son. Calliphone and Andos survived due to the protection of Perturabo, who fully unleashed his wrath on those that would harm his foster-siblings.

Morning came and those loyal to Dammekos won the great battle for Lochos but there were none that could replace the unwavering will that Dammekos had. Andos, by his own admission, did not have the cruelty of his father and Calliphone, while Dammekos' blood and holding his ambition and intellect, was female and therefore could not inherit his right to rule. It fell to Perturabo to pick up the crown that had slipped from his father's head.

Perturabo did not hate his foster-father; he understood the cruelty of his actions, the brutality of example. But his time spent with Andos and Calliphone had also taught Perturabo that one must help others rise; that while cruelty can help one exceed in many lengths, compassion could inspire true loyalty. After all, Perturabo was an example of that. Perturabo was merciless to the assassins of Dammekos, and those city-states that conspired against him but when they bent the knee to Perturabo he did all in his power to see them flourish, cementing their loyalty.

Perturabo adopted a softer approach than the former Tyrant, and with the aid of his far more amicable foster-siblings acting as his heralds Perturabo soon brought many of those rebellious city-states to heel. Unlike Dammekos, Perturabo cared little for his own personal glory and in fact found such things tedious. Some believe this was due to Dammekos' obsession with proving his power over others, something which Perturabo found highly disdainful.

Still, despite being very different to Dammekos, Perturabo was capable of reaching and even exceeding his cruelty. If any city-state spat back at the mercy Perturabo offered them or attempted to harm either Andos or Calliphone in their diplomatic journeys then the Perturabo would unleash his fury on the traitors. It was through this attitude which gained him the title the Lord of Iron. For Perturabo was like iron and unrelenting against all foes.

Soon the whole of Olympia was united under the firm but fair grip of Perturabo. Peace had spread throughout the planet and the many wars between city-states ceased under the stability that Perturabo had brought. Both of his foster-siblings praised him for his efforts though Perturabo denied such claims that he alone saved his world. The unification of Olympia drew the eye of a fleet from the stars and soon the Emperor of Mankind came to meet His son.

Perturabo assured the people of Olympia that these men from the stars meant no harm and allowed to land in Lochos unopposed. The Emperor smiled at His son's work and found himself amused that His first meeting with Perturabo did not take place in a gargantuan palace's throne room but rather in a library where the Primarch had been studying ancient texts.

* * *

 _Perturabo looked up from where he sat. He, Calliphone and Andos were looking through pages of half-preserved schematics of technology from the past; hoping to find some ancient machinery to further help Olympia thrive. He felt a presence enter and he turned, seeing Calliphone tug Andos' arm to look up._

 _A giant stood in the library's centre, a gold wreath nestled in midnight black hair, sun-darkened skin and dark brown eyes a stark contrast to the golden armour the being wore. So this was the Emperor, Perturabo thought, this is my father._

 _The Emperor smiled down at the trio. "I trust I am not interrupting, my son."_

 _Calliphone and Andos were staring at the Emperor in shocked amazement; unsure whether to run or to praise Him. Perturabo placed a great hand on both of their shoulders as he rose and he gave his father a hard stare: a warning. This man may be his father but any that would mean his foster-siblings harm would face his judgement and his wrath. Any who would bring harm to his subjects and peoples would be crushed underfoot. His father noticed the warning but instead of responding with a challenge, He merely smiled and nodded._

 _"You have done well, my son." The Emperor looked at Andos and Calliphone. "You two have done Perturabo a great service and for that, I thank you." Perturabo noted the two mortals blushed and their eyes went to the floor, as if they didn't deserve praise delivered by such a grand being. The Emperor looked at him. "Would you like to meet the rest of your brothers, your true brothers?_

* * *

Both Andos and Calliphone joined Perturabo as he journeyed with his father to Terra. It was there that it was discovered that Andos would not survive the change into becoming an Astartes but he was nonetheless changed, of his own free will, into becoming a genetically enhanced human, with longer life and endurance. Calliphone likewise went under similar rejuvenate surgeries to slow her age. So the trio left Olympia in mortal hands while the world was brought into the fold of the Imperium and were enlightened to the Emperor's plans.

On Terra, Perturabo quickly established friendships with Lorgar and Magnus. All three of them relished in philosophies, histories, and discussions of what their more battle-hardened brothers deemed meaningless. Perturabo found himself trusting his two Primarch brothers as much as his foster-siblings. And it was to Lorgar that he revealed a blight that had haunted him his whole life.

* * *

 _Lorgar walked into Perturabo's chambers, curious as to why his brother asked him to come. Lorgar looked about, seeing the walls covered in blueprints and schematics for grand constructions on an impressive scale, everything from bridges to void-ports. The Urizen moved over, intrigued by what he saw._

 _"Father initially made us for war," Lorgar said, "but we each have our role to play in the age to come. Once the galaxy is united under the Aquila, I will be the defender of the Faith; Roboute, the administrator; Konrad, the justicar; but you, Perturabo, will be our architect. And I have a feeling your creations will stand for ten thousand years." He turned to see the Lord of Iron's grateful nod, but also the doubt, hesitation, possibly even… fear? "What troubles you, brother?"_

 _Perturabo was initially hesitant but once he opened his mouth, words poured out as if bottled inside for far too long. "I invited you here to aid me. Magnus has spoken of your understanding and compassion. Something has… haunted me, followed me for years." Perturabo looked out the nearby multi-coloured glass window panel, looking out across the Palace and the star-filled horizon. The look of apprehension on the Olympian's face worried Lorgar. The Seventeenth Primarch moved to the Fourth, hand outstretched to comfort his brother. His fingers touched his brother's shoulder…_

 _…a massive maw of warped reality, a scar made from the birth of a god, the death-knell of a species where countless trillions perished, a pulsating beacon of terror and damnation looking out over the galaxy, hungry for war and devastation…_

 _Lorgar was not a psyker like Magnus, but he could sense things. Touching his brother's shoulder allowed him to see what he saw. Lorgar looked where he knew the great storm resided, feeling a chill pass through him. Lorgar looked at Perturabo and felt amazement. To have that infernal place, the literal Hell of time and space, staring down on you, whispering to you… it was a testament to Perturabo's sheer will that he had resisted and defied it._

 _"Tell me of your ailment," decreed the Lord of the Seventeenth Legion. "And I will do all in my power to help you."_

* * *

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"My home was once broiled in conflict - one born of treachery. Dammekos proved to me that fear, while good at keeping the masses at bay, was ultimately fickle in the end. To be a true ruler one must help those rise from the ruins you caused. For then they would know the depths of your might and compassion. We shall follow that example, my sons! Let us bring ruin to worlds that resist and deny the Imperium. Then amidst the ashes of their old world, we shall make it anew. You are conquerors and builders both, my sons, my Iron Warriors. We shall be unrelenting in this, for all time. Iron within, iron without!"_ \- Attributed to Perturabo, Lord of the Fourth Legion upon meeting his sons for the first time.

* * *

Prior to Perturabo's command the Iron Warriors were used as a blunt instrument; used to crush any form of rebellion under a barrage of steel and gunfire. It made them a Legion to be feared, their cruel disposition and unrelenting firepower making them reliable conquerors albeit one of the more detested Legions. Upon taking command of his sons, Perturabo longed to fix this dark reputation before it led to his sons being vindicated by the whole Imperium.

Perturabo began to slowly but surely change the view the Imperium had on the Iron Warriors, while as unrelenting as ever in their pursuit of the Emperor's dream and the IV soon adopted the firm fairness of Perturabo. Just as Andos and Calliphone did on Olympia, so too did Perturabo do in the Great Crusade, first dispatching diplomats to implore human worlds that resisted the Imperium to surrender peacefully. Some did, but many, alas, did not. After the initial show of diplomacy was rebuked, the indomitable fortitude of the Iron Warriors came to the fore and their fairness was side-lined for their legendary ferocity.

Though unlike most Legions, who often left those broken in their wake at the mercy of the Imperium, the Iron Warriors would spend many weeks and months in rebuilding the worlds they had conquered, leaving them better than they had been previous to compliance more oft than not. These acts did not go unnoticed; the Emperor approvingly noted what the Lord of Iron and his gene-line were doing and accomplishing, doubtlessly swaying His mind in an upcoming decision. However, it was with the Black Judges that pushed the Iron Warriors to the brink. The Black Judges were a dark legend on Olympia, said to have slaughtered and enslaved hundreds of thousands the last time they visited the planet millennia before Dammekos. It was ironic that the monsters of Olympia's past would be one of the greatest trials for the Iron Warriors.

While it rankled Perturabo to extend the offer of the Emperor's mercy to such monsters he did so. Perturabo aimed to be the one to extend the offer of compliance to them in exchange for the ancient technology that they possessed. Calliphone, who had traveled the stars beside her brother as one of his most trusted advisors, volunteered to broker peace between the Iron Warriors and the Black Judges. While hesitant, Perturabo could not deny his sister her duty and allowed her to descend upon the Black Judges' homeworld… only for them to shoot down her dropship. The rage which Perturabo went into was something that shocked even his closest sons. Without hesitation, Perturabo committed the full arsenal of his Legion to destroy the near-human xenos.

The Primarch himself led many of the assaults; tearing Black Judges asunder with his hands, or destroying them with the walking armory known as the _Logos_ which covered his great demigod frame. Hundreds of mortal and Iron Warriors soldiers bled and died upon the robotic claws of Black Judge defenders, and even when he burned their civilization to the ground, his rage did not abate. Not until his own right hand made his father realize how far he had fallen.

* * *

 _Perturabo crushed the skull of one of the xenos, its brains leaking out of the helm as it crumpled with ease in Perturabo's hand. He seethed with an burning rage which even the likes of Manus and Angron would have wilted at. The Black Judges were all but ruined - but it wasn't enough. They took Calliphone from him, even when he offered them mercy. And this is how they repaid him._

 _His sons would not help raise up their worlds into something wondrous. He would take it all from them. They would all die, one by one until nothing was left…_

 _"Father," a voice called, catching the Primarch's attention. "Father, enough!"_

 _Perturabo turned to look upon the proud form of Berossus, his patrician features twisted in distaste at his father's mindless rage. Perturabo walked up to his son and he towered over the Astartes the same way a Astartes lorded over a mortal. Berossus leveled a hard glare at his father._

 _"Your revenge is done," he stated firmly, despite his body language and all instincts screamed at him to run. "You have always been above this baseless violence. Leave this to the likes of Russ and Manus. You are better than this."_

 _"They should suffer -"_

 _"They have! You have ruined their dark legacy, but you must remember who you are. Like iron we are unrelenting!"_

 _With a roar of anger Perturabo smashed the legionnaire aside, breaking him across the wall of the wrecked xenos fortress. And in that moment all anger was forgotten, leaving only shame. Perturabo raced to his son's side and clutched the broken body. Berossus was still alive, still breathing, if barely. Perturabo cursed himself. How could he do this to his own? Calliphone would have been ashamed that this was how he honoured her memory._

 _"Bring the Apothecaries!" yelled Perturabo over the vox, shame combating with worry. "Quickly!"_

* * *

The ashamed Perturabo inferred Berossus himself into a dreadnought of his own design, in hopes that he could begin to ease his conscious. As for Calliphone's remains, recovered at the campaign's beginning, it was returned to Olympia where Andos ruled as Planetary Governor and under Perturabo's orders was carefully interred in a tomb constructed by the Primarch. The xenos technology was likewise sent to Olympia for safekeeping and study, furthermore was done so to keep the dangerous technology from the likes of the Seventh and Tenth Primarchs. The Fall of the Black Judges marked a change in Perturabo; he became more reserved and restrained, though he did not lose his humility and still continued to help remake those worlds he broke upon the anvil of war.

This mark was noted by both Magnus and Lorgar – the Olympian Primarch's closest brothers. And the pair did their collective best to keep the Lord of Iron company; they could tell that his rage had disturbed the Lord of the Fourth. It was this reason he loathed the company of the likes of Russ and Manus, viewing the pair as unrestrained beasts that relished in the carnage they willingly unleashed. While one could argue he disliked Angron for the same reason, Perturabo admired his brother for keeping his rage directed at those deserving it, such as xenos or human civilization so debased as to require extermination.

Though the Crimson King and the Urizen were his dearest friends, Perturabo also appreciated Guilliman and Horus. Guilliman due to the fact that both were raised on civilized worlds suffering from internal strife and followed similar strategies bringing worlds to heel. And Horus due to the fact he was astounded by Perturabo's inventions and eagerly praised Perturabo for his ingenuity. Fulgrim and Perturabo had a known respect for one another but Fulgrim privately disliked Perutabo simply due to his judgement of Ferrus Manus, a brother whom Fulgrim was close to.

Of all of his brother-Primarchs, it was Rogal Dorn whom Perturabo despised the most. He loathed the Seventh Son for the increasing brutality that was quickly consuming the VII in the Crusade's later decades. Compliance meant little to Dorn and even when those worlds had submitted to him, the Unyielding One would not stop until the world had been razed to the ground. It was an attitude that reminded Perturabo all too much of Dammekos, which led to Perturabo looking down on Dorn as unrealized potential. Dorn, in comparison, despised Perturabo for his compassion, seen as a weakness. It was initially believed Dorn admired Perturabo for having a mastery of siege craft similar to his own, but when Perturabo would halt the siege after the enemy capitulated and allowed enemy soldiers to survive did Dorn's admiration sour into disgust.

It was Perturabo who was the first to clash with the Great Beast Urlakk Urg and his Ork Empire of Ullanor. But even the Iron Warriors could not defeat this vast greenskin horde, leading Perturabo to call forth aid from the Imperium. The White Scars and Luna Wolves answered the call, led by their respective Primarchs and the Emperor Himself. The three Space Marine Legions were heavily supplemented with the Imperial Army, Mechanicum, Sisters of Silence, and the Legio Custodes. The campaign was vicious and costly, but through the brilliance of the First Found, the forces of Mankind prevailed and this cemented Horus as the Emperor's choice for Warmaster. With Horus ascended to Warmaster, praised by the Emperor, Perturabo warmly congratulated his brother, becoming a firm supporter against the Warmaster's detractors. The Lord of Iron deemed the Cthonian Primarch the most worthy of the title, though admitted Guilliman and Sanguinius were likely candidates.

As the Emperor readied Himself for the return journey to Terra, He chose Perturabo and his Iron Warriors to be His praetorians and to fortify the Throneworld to make it a world worthy and strong enough to rule the galaxy entire. Perturabo quickly accepted and recalled much of his Legion to rendezvous with him in Sol. Prior to the return to Mankind's Cradle, there was the Conclave at Nikaea. It is unknown whether or not Perturabo actively supported psykers or remained neutral on the subject but Librarians had been fielded since Perturabo's assumption of command and have continued to play an integral part of the Fourth Legion's operations. With the Edict of Nikaea declared, allowing the IV Librarius to remain intact, Perturabo accompanied his father to Terra to take on his new responsibilities as Praetorian.

Some praised Perturabo for his new role, such as Horus, Magnus, and Lorgar, but others derided the Olympian demigod, most notably Rogal Dorn. Dorn believed he was superior at fortification and siege-works, and saw Perturabo becoming the Emperor's Praetorian as an unforgivable slight. It is hypothesized by many that this was when the Seventh Primarch fell under the Angel Fallen's corrupting influence.

Upon arriving to the Sol System, the Praetorian quickly set about modernizing and expanding the existing defenses across Sol whilst simultaneously erecting new defenses wherever he deemed necessary, from the battlements of the Imperial Palace to the weapon satellite-platforms of Pluto. Some Terran nobles and Army officers suggested that the Praetorian was being over-zealous in the pursuit of his duties, redirecting resources and funds from various projects into his own but such criticisms faded away when the Sanguinary Heresy bloodily erupted and validated the need for such master-crafted resource-intense defenses.

Perturabo accepted the offer with grace and began his work on Terra and the Sol System. These defenses would prove instrumental in the coming Heresy but as the rumors of treachery spread across the stars, Perturabo had to return to his homeworld of Olympia as news spread that the world was infected by a 'Xenos-virus', one that many historians believe to have been the same plague that laid Eugen Temba low.

 **The Heresy: The Siegelord Rising**

Not long after the Praetorian began to carry out his new duties when worrying news from Olympia reached him. His homeworld had been struck by some 'xenos-virus' which historians have in hindsight linked whatever had struck the corrupt Planetary Governor Eugen Temba. The virus turned many of those infected into bloated corpses that shuffled along with the only intent to infect their neighbors. Even the Astartes stationed upon Olympia were affected by the plague.

Forewarned by his Librarians that the xenos-virus was in fact a warp born plague that seemed to have a will of its own caused Perturabo, with a heavy heart but without hesitation, to order the quarantine and mass bio-suppression of half his world. To save his homeworld, he must first ruin it. The Iron Warriors grimly went about this act, burning half their world to a cinder whilst sending in extermination squads to destroy any who survived and possibly were infected. Billions died, killed by their supposed protectors but the Fourth Primarch knew his genocide, no matter how heinous, would protect half his people and from that there could be a chance to rebuild.

The Iron Warriors fought against the infected peoples of Olympia, who possessed a very simple mentality of infect and swarm. The worst opponents by far were their fellow Iron Warriors. Even lost to the plague, they were still Space Marines and fought with the martial prowess that all Astartes possessed. Among the world-wide carnage, one name was endlessly repeated by the infected: Nurgle. The name meant little to Perturabo, its importance not yet fully realized. Still, it was unnerving nonetheless.

It was found that flame-based weapons worked best against the infected, leaving nothing but charred ash and bones. Filled with the twin feelings of shame and determination, Perturabo allowed his sons to use such ruthless weapons, burning entire hab-blocks to the ground to prevent the spread of infection. Perturabo found himself advancing onto his childhood home: the Tyrant's Palace, renamed the Governor's Palace where Andos ruled in Perturabo's name. It was there where Perturabo was confronted with the bloated warp spawn that was once his mortal brother.

* * *

 _The_ Logos _roared as it tore apart the savages that were once Perturabo's people. Once they were his subjects, and they served him so well in the years of the Crusade. Now, they had become slaves to some malignant xenos plague... or if his Librarians were right, a far worse malevolent intelligence. Perturabo pushed such thoughts aside as he fought through the Palace._

 _"Andos!" He roared, hoping against hope that his foster-brother was safe. "Andos where are -"_

 _Perturabo's words died in his throat as he looked at the bloated figure that was seated upon the throne. It wore the proud armour of a warsmith Perturabo had gifted Andos when he became Planetary Governor but the iron was corroded, fluids leaking through cracks. Behind the iron mask of the Legion was a form of fungus. The figure was Andos, warped and twisted, but still Andos._

 _"Brrootthheerr… come embrace me," the thing on the throne gurgled. "I have purified your world. Come and let it all be made whole."_

 _Perturabo had no words. This thing was not his brother, not anymore. Still, it didn't lessen the pain as he advanced on the foul creature. Like Calliphone, Andos was gone. He had failed him, just as he failed her. But that didn't mean he couldn't avenge him, Perturabo swore that whoever sent this plague to his world would suffer the most painful of deaths._

 _But first was his duty._

 _Perturabo aimed The_ Logos _at the bloated figure which raised a blade as it advanced. "I'm sorry." The_ Logos _fired._

* * *

Despite killing what he assumed to be the source of the plague, Perturabo was forced to commit orbital bombardment on half the world of Olympia to fully halt and eradicate the plague. It worked and the plague was all but purified but the cost of it weighed heavy on Perturabo. He returned to Terra in shame only to find that half his brothers had cast aside the Emperor's teachings. Furthermore, the Emperor himself absolved Perturabo of any sins and made him aware of the true architect of Olympia's suffering: Rogal Dorn and his dark patron Nurgle.

Perturabo, though returning to Terra victorious, missed out on joining the Imperial Retribution Armada dispatched to Isstvan. Instead he focused all his efforts on making sure that Terra and the Sol System could survive and hold off the incoming traitors, this made all the more important after the traitors' shocking victory on Isstvan V. With the loyalists spread thin and three Legions all but broken, many looked to Perturabo and his unified Iron Warriors for hope. And Perturabo refused to bend and let the chaos of war consume the innocent, saving countless billions who flocked to Sol in terror. While Konrad Curze and his blood-hungry Night Lords went out to meet the traitors head on, it was Perturabo who prepared for the inevitable confrontation that would decide the civil war's fate.

Before any significant progress could be made for the Sol System's defenses, the Schism of Mars soon crippled any efforts to be made in preparation. Mars was split into two factions; those who still were loyal to the Emperor and those who sided with the arch-heretek, Belisarius Cawl. Many Titan Legions and Knightly Houses were torn between oaths of loyalty and Perturabo knew that this chaos on the Imperium's primary Forge World would only work to the Arch-Traitor's advantage. The Emperor's Praetorian would need the God-Engines of Mars for the final campaign and he would need the vast munitions, vehicles and a host of other crucial supplies that only Mars could construct.

Though despising Dorn and Manus, Perturabo knew the two Traitor Primarchs would construct inconceivable weapons that would tip the balance and therefore needed all the resources the Red Planet held to develop counter-measures.

* * *

Belisarius Cawl, The Arch-Heretek

Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl was already old at the dawn of the Imperium, over ten thousand years ago. During that span of ages the tech-priest had served as a Forge Lord, a Lexico Arcanus and a renowned Magos Biologis, but soon resentment grew in his heart as he felt himself set aside for others less suited, or so he deemed, to advance to positions he jealously sought. When the Heresy broke the galaxy in two Cawl swore himself to the Angel Fallen, leading half of the Mechanicum into rebelling against the loyal Kelbor-Hal and Zagreus Kane. Cawl deemed Sanguinius the true Emperor of Mankind, who would lift restrictions the Emperor had long used to shackle the Martian Priesthood's ambition and potential.

As Mars was consumed by war, Cawl dabbled in warp-craft and many other debased experiments, rarely taking command of those forces loyal to him, instead letting his warmongering underlings a chance to prove themselves. Despite the deadly creations Cawl and his allies had unleashed on Mars' surface, the traitor tech-priests could not truly stop the loyalist Mechanicum aided by two Iron Warrior great companies led by two of their most renowned legionnaires. As Mars was once again made while, Cawl and his inner circle were able to circumvent the Imperial blockade around Mars and secret himself to Sanguinius' side. There he was ordered by the Angel Fallen to work alongside the cunning Marius Gage and found himself intrigued by the dark genius of Guilliman's First Master.

After the Siege ended in defeat, with Sanguinius and Guilliman killed, Cawl fled with Gage into the Ruinstorm. There on the Fortress World of Armatura, the two traitors forged a pact of damnation. Cawl experimented and developed many daemon-engines and worse to bolster Gage's forces. With the mad genius of the Archmagos supplying them and led by the ruthless Marius Gage, the Evocati warband have carved a small but powerful empire within the Ruinstorm. Though construction of war-material and pursuing new lines of thought not meddled with since the Dark Age of Technology occupied much of the Martian's time, it was not his magnus opus.

Cawl believed that he could improve upon the Emperor's gene-mastery and create a higher form of warrior - better even than the Space Marines. Such hubris has earned him the ire of the Imperium and both the Night Lords and the Officio Assassinorum have a kill on sight order for the Arch-Heretek. But nothing yet has altered his plans and the Nemesis are rising…

* * *

So in order to bring stability to Mars, Perturabo sent two of his Triarchs to bring Mars to heel: Erasmus Golg and Kydomer Forrix. The two great companies of Iron Warriors attacked Mars with the priority of aiding those still loyal to the Emperor. But despite the aid of the loyal Skitarii forces, the Iron Warriors were still hard pressed. But they shouldered onward knowing what their father had asked of them and they would live up to the creed of their Legion that no sacrifice was too great for the preservation of the Imperium.

The battle across Mars raged for years, Legio Titans fought Legio Titans while the tanks and other armoured vehicles of the Iron Warriors and loyal Mechanicum clashed with those semi-autonomous tanks of the Dark Mechanicum. Golg and Forrix knew that they would need the killing power of the Legio Mortis. The traitors, however, had secured the _Dies Irae_ during the Schism's opening stages as a prize for the Angel Fallen. So the Iron Warriors did the unthinkable, and charged where the great God-Machine was being housed to ensure that the loyal crew would be able to reach the revered Titan. The traitors were caught off guard by such reckless tactics from the normally taciturn and methodical Iron Warriors, and could not stop them in time. The _Dies Irae_ rose and the traitors could only flee in the face of the might of the Imperator.

Those traitors that did not flee were crushed with impunity for their betrayal to the Throneworld. But in the final push to punish the traitors, Erasmus Golg fell in combat and his corpse was taken by Cawl. To what ends none but the darkest minds could decipher but Mars – after several more years of unending conflict - was purged of heresy. The loyal Titan Legions could now be redeployed to nearby star systems to aid in the war effort, while the Legio Mortis was brought to Terra - for Perturabo felt their killing efficiency would be needed.

 **The Siege of Terra: Lords of Rot and Iron**

 _"They stood ready to face the horde of traitors and monsters. The mutant, daemon and worse descended upon the Throneworld; baying for the blood of innocents. But the Warriors of Iron and the Praetorian of Terra stood ready to punish their wayward kin. Fire and fury was all the traitors would gain from them."_ \- Extract taken from Remembrance of Iron

* * *

After the fall of Beta-Garmon and Yarant, Sanguinius was poised to strike Sol. And so came the full might of the Heresy bearing down on Sol, intent to ravage Terra and install Sanguinius as the Second Emperor. Despite the force being disjointed by different desires and motivations, Sanguinius managed to gain full control of the horde once more and sent them charging into the Sol System… and into the maw of Perturabo's traps. Asteroids were charged to explode upon proximity to traitor warships, and each world of the Sol System was surrounded by a great many armed warships and void stations.

Thousands of traitor legionnaires and tens of millions of Traitor Army troopers bled and died before they even saw the Throneworld - but it mattered little. The numbers were overwhelming, there was simply too many. As they set foot upon Terra, Perturabo was prepared to outlast his traitor brothers and their sons. For months the carefully executed plans of the Lord of Iron saw the Traitor Legions bleed themselves dry on the Palace's battlements, and despite being slowly pushed back, Perturabo was certain help was on the way, but the Siege soon turned to disarray.

Alpharius went to confront the Lion while Horus hunted down Leman Russ. Perturabo stayed behind to continue leading the defense and keeping the loyalists organised. Meanwhile, the great Legio Mortis massacred traitors like they did on Mars - even destroying the Sky Fortress of Dorn, much to Perturabo's private joy. This joy was joined with relief as loyalist reinforcements in the form of the III, XII and XVII arrived to bring the battle to a stalemate.

Despite the setbacks that had harried him since assaulting Terra, Sanguinius rallied several of his brothers to him to kill the Emperor, with only Perturabo and Magnus arrayed against them. Sending calls for aid, Perturabo unloaded the full might of his Logos armour onto his traitor brothers. He bathed them in bolter fire and even wounded Ferrus, but they cast him aside, moving further into the Palace to end the Heresy in victory. Only one of the Traitor Primarchs stayed behind to fight Perturabo: Rogal Dorn.

On the steps of the Eternity Gate the Lord of the Imperial Fists and the Lord of the Iron Warriors bloodied each other. One fought for Order and Unity, the other for poisonous pride and the capricious whims of the Dark Gods. Perturabo stayed out of reach of Dorn's great chainsword and leveled blows that would have shattered tanks. Dorn, thanks to his Primarch physiology bolstered by the attentions of Nurgle, took each blow with great endurance.

Finally Dorn laid his brother low but before the death blow could be delivered a force of Iron Warriors led by Warsmith Berossus attacked the Traitor Primarch. This coupled with news Sanguinius failure to kill the Emperor, therefore defeating the Heresy, caused the Lord of Rot to flee, but not before swearing that there would be a reckoning between him and his brother.

 **Post-Heresy: The Hunt for Dorn**

With the Heresy at long last finished, Perturabo set about rebuilding Terra and the Sol System's defences that had been ravaged by the traitor forces. The thought of Dorn escaping still burned within Perturabo and try as he might set aside his old grudge for the betterment of the Imperium, Perturabo could not forgive Dorn for his many sins. As Sol recovered and the Imperial Palace's ramparts and bulwarks repaired and expanded, the Lord of Iron concocted a plan to help strengthen the Imperium in its time of weakness. He began to reinforce the distant world of Cadia, once a mere footnote in the Crusade's annals, now recognized as the foothold to Hell. Perturabo weaponized that world, filling it to the brim with imposing fortresses and manned by war-hardened veterans. If the Nine Traitor Legions wanted to flee into the Eye of Terror, Perturabo ensured they must first break through the Iron Warriors bottling them up in real-space. These circumstances led to the First Cadian War where Perturabo would settle his debt with Dorn by bleeding harrowing the Imperial Fists, bleeding them dry – at last acquiring some vengeance for the plague that scoured half of Olympia.

* * *

 _"I never hated him. Not truly, not until he cast aside all that Father had painstakingly built. Perhaps part of me was envious of his abilities. The machines he built were wonderful in their savagery but… that all left me when he took the traitor's badge. Now he and his sons wish to flee from the devastation they wrought. I will teach them that cowardice has its price. They sealed their bargain with the Angel Fallen in the blood of their loyal brothers. I will be the vengeance of those forgotten heroes and I will be unrelenting in my punishment. I swear that much, by Calliphone and Andos, I so swear."_ \- From the personal biography of Perturabo, Lord of the Fourth Legion.

* * *

The First Cadian War took place in the last year of the Scouring, fought between the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists, both led by their respective Primarchs. Cadia had been occupied by the IV for several months, where extensive fortifications had been constructed under the supervision of Perturabo. The Emperor's Praetorian had hoped to prevent the withdrawing Imperial Fists from entering the Great Eye, wishing to destroy the VII in full, and knew that his presence on Cadia would present a challenge that Dorn could not simply ignore. And the Lord of Iron proved right in this regard as the entirety of the Seventh Legion assaulted Cadia.

Perturabo had been unable to gather all of his sons on Cadia before the Imperial Fists attacked, due to his Legion scattered across the Imperium carrying out various campaigns and manning Fortress Worlds and garrisoning scores of other star systems, as well as a large detachment remaining on Terra to protect the half-destroyed Palace. So when the sons of Dorn arrived, the legionnaires of the IV were outnumbered but their deference were expertly-built and began to exact a heavy toll against the Traitor Space Marines. The focus of the loyalist defenses was centered on an immense fortress built in the image of a defiant Imperial Aquila.

Dorn, eager to kill Perturabo, deployed his sons en masse, using attrition and the gifts of Nurgle to overcome the loyalist fortifications, much to the chagrin of his First Captain Sigismund who had disagreed with the campaign from the start, seeing Dorn's pride overrunning his sense. For weeks the VII overran Iron Warrior trenches, bunkers, and other such positions, nearing the heart of the Aquila Fortress where Perturabo resided, directing the defense. Many of the bitterly ironically named Imperial Fists perished in this venture, falling victim to the Praetorian's traps and calculating guile.

After nearly a month, the Imperial Fists entered the Aquila's center, only to find it a trap where Iron Warrior heavy weapons unloaded unto the traitor legionnaires. It was then when Perturabo emerged to face his brother. Dorn had killed hundreds of Iron Warriors and Perturabo was determined that Dorn would pay for his crimes. The two fought one another for hours, both gaining the upper hand and subsequently losing it.

* * *

 _Perturabo gritted his teeth as Dorn's great chainsword,_ Storm's Teeth _, carved a great chunk out of his armour. He wouldn't cry out, he swore to himself that he wouldn't give Dorn that pleasure. He cast his eyes on what became of Dorn. A bloated monster, leaking poisonous fluids and reeking of pestilence, with pus oozing between the Primarch's armoured plates, face having become swollen and foul. It drew Perturabo back to memories of Andos when he was forced to slay him. Another sin to lay at Dorn's feet. A dreadful smile came about Dorn's swollen lips as he watched Perturabo stumble back from the blow._

 _"Weakness - a trait that polluted our brothers," gurgled Dorn as he marched towards Perturabo. "I will cleanse you of it, for Grandfather Nurgle and for the Rot. You were always so, so weak. 'The Lord of Iron' – what a foolish title. Did you weep for Olympia, brother? When it fell into Nurgle's loving embrace? It must have been wonderful to be among the Rot, to see your mortal masses ascended in the Lord of Decay's favour. Olympia will be mine again!"_

 _Perturabo didn't deign to answer and instead allowed the Logos to speak for him. Bolter fire tore across Dorn's face, eliciting a mad roar from the Lord of the Imperial Fists._

 _Perturabo smiled at that and surged forward with the_ Praetorian Sword _._

* * *

Sigismund, knowing that even if Perturabo was killed, the Seventh Legion would be exterminated, ordered their withdrawal during the clash of Primarchs. The Legion, thinking the order came from Dorn, compiled, ceasing their campaign and making way to the Eye of Terror. Dorn was furious, only able to wound Perturabo once again before withdrawing as well, lest he perish.

Both sides would go on to declare victory. The Imperial Fists saw it as a victory for the Aquila Fortress and the other imposing entrenchments on Cadia had been broken down and ruined, and the IV had lost thousands of Astartes it could ill afford to lose. The Iron Warriors saw it as a victory due to they still held Cadia, their father lived, and the Imperial Fists had lost nearly a quarter of their Legion. Regardless, the aftermath was not prone for semantics.

* * *

Cadia, The Gate to Hell

Cadia is a Fortress World on the edge of the warp storm known as the Eye of Terror. The planet was situated in an area of space known as the Cadian Gate, the only stable, permanent route into and out of the Eye of Terror large enough to allow the passage of entire battlefleets. It was for this reason that Perturabo declared that Cadia would be made so formidable as to withstand even the mightiest of invasions, a boast proven true in the First Cadian War. Due to its strategic position, Cadia boasts one of the largest Imperial Army garrisons in the Imperium - only worlds such as Armageddon, Balhaut, Terra, and a handful of others could equal such a boasting.

The Iron Warriors continue to maintain a presence on Cadia, typically in the form of a great company or two. The legionnaires work readily alongside other Imperial forces to keep Cadia's defenses on high-alert at all times for traitor warbands often attempt to fight their way through Cadia to make their way into the Imperium. Cadia's entire population belong to some branch of the Imperial military. Perhaps most famous of all are the Cadian Shock Troopers, regiments raised for service within the Imperial Army. The Shock Troopers are considered some of the finest soldiers in the entire Imperium, even earning the respect of the harsh Iron Warriors. The people of Cadia keep constant watch on the Eye of Terror, their vigilance having halted the Forces of Chaos time after time throughout the millennia.

* * *

 **The Black Crusade of The Three-Faced Prince**

After the First Cadian War, the Emperor's Praetorian rebuilt Cadia's defences and expanded his newly dubbed Iron Cage across dozens of star systems bordering the Great Eye, as well as scores more throughout Segmentum Obscurus and beyond. However, in the Ruinstorm a new threat had arisen: Marius Gage. Gage's warband, the Evocati, began their own Black Crusade. Gage grew powerful during the war, now ascended in the eyes of the Pantheon. And the world of Armatura supplied his warband with a great many weapons designed by Belisarius Cawl.

Gage decided centuries after the Heresy that it was his time to reap glory and power. The former First Master of the Ultramarines emerged from the Ruinstorm with his warband. His forces, their level of coordination and discipline rare among the Archenemy's forces, managed to rampage across several sectors neighboring the former Realm of Ultramar, ravaging all before them at a nightmarish pace. And Perturabo found that this was due to the military genius of Marius and the abominable creations of Cawl: The Nemesis Marines. Officially named the 'Lusus Naturae' by the Imperium, the Nemesis Marines were Cawl and Gage's attempts to improve upon the concept of Space Marines. And so far these prototypes lived up to their creators' expectations, with nary a major flaw. And as the 41st Millennium comes to a close, the latest variations of Nemesis Marines are by far the most deadly, obedient and effective.

* * *

Marius Gage, the Three-Faced Prince

Once counted among the greatest of loyalists, now one of the most debased of traitors. That is the legacy of Marius Gage, the former First Master of the Thirteenth Legion. When Guilliman fell to Chaos, so too did Gage, willingly following his primogenitor into the arms of corruption and betrayal. It was during the war that nearly destroyed the Imperium that Gage found his true calling: utter domination of others. Disillusioned with what he perceived to be his father's weaknesses, Gage had forsworn Guilliman's legacy, feeling it is keeping the XIII in a stalemated stranglehold, unable to move on and change as Chaos demands. During the Great Crusade, he once commanded the greatest of warriors; the paragons and defenders of man. But now he rules the Evocati, the most hateful and bitter of the various Ultramarine warbands. All of them, like their unholy commander, see their gene-father as a failed corpse and long to see the Battle-King's body and memory burned and forgotten.

During the Sanguinary Heresy's Shadow Crusade, Guilliman was able to ensnare Angron and Lorgar into the Ruinstorm, leaving Gage to lead the remaining Ultramarines not entangled in the wars ravaging Ultramar in their Primarch's name. Though initially loyal to Guilliman by blood and duty, it was in those dark days while Guilliman fought two Loyal Primarchs in his empire, that Sanguinius subverted that loyalty to him in mind and soul. The Angel Fallen become more of a father to Gage than Guilliman. The moment Guilliman fell to Fulgrim's blade during the Siege's climax was the moment Gage ascended to daemonhood. Now he rules Armatura where he plots to usurp both his father and the Blood Angels for his believes only he has the strength and will to unite the Fallen Legions once more.

* * *

Gage further mocked the Iron Warriors by debasing many Fortress Worlds, defacing status of Perturabo, the other Loyal Primarchs and the Emperor Himself. This was done in conjunction of the mass murder of the Fortress Worlds' peoples in rituals to the Primordial Annihilator. Gage hoped to draw Perturabo into a trap, knowing that the death of a Primarch would increase his prestige and standing in the eyes of the Dark Gods and would aid him in his own goal of uniting the Ultramarines under his leadership.

Perturabo would not allow such cruelty to stand and so with the aid of the Night Lords began a campaign to halt Gage's Black Crusade. The Night Lords were sent to those worlds corrupted by Ultramarine influence and went about their bloody work to purge the populations of any tainted individuals, meanwhile the Praetorian aimed for the heart of the Black Crusade. Gage had situated himself and a significant portion of the Evocati on one of the Iron Cage's own Fortress Worlds, causing Perturabo to swear he would take it back.

Many Iron Warriors fell to the traps of Gage, the Evocati Ultramarines legionnaires, and his proto-Nemesis Marines, but they continued onward in spite of the losses suffered, ever willing to stop the traitor forces. Perturabo spearheaded many of the attacks and even came to blows briefly with Gage before the Three-Faced Prince hastily withdrew. The duel ended with Gage suddenly using warp-craft to flee back to his flagship, _the Bane of Honour_ , alongside much of his surviving forces and attempted to flee back to the Ruinstorm. The Night Lords and Iron Warriors harried the traitor warships and Perturabo himself attacked Cawl's Ark Mechanicus flagship _Zar-Quaesitor_ in a daring boarding action, only to be lost as it fled into the warp.

* * *

 _Perturabo looked on at the debased hordes that rushed towards him; those blasphemous bastard children of Cawl and Gage, monsters born of both ambition and madness. An attempt to outdo his father, and His Legions. Gage was a twisted thing now, Perturabo thought absently as he waded further into the Dark Mechanicum vessel. Gone was the right hand of his brother, ready to please. The Heresy stripped him of that and the Ruinous Powers made him into something worse. Perturabo looked back to his fleet via a dirtied viewport, and across the vox could hear his sons calling for him, worry in their tones evident to the Praetorian._

 _"Father," came the baritone boom of Berossus. Perturabo swore he could hear fear in that modulated voice. "The ship is going into the warp, you have to leave or you shall be taken too! Attempt to activate you teleporter locus, my lord."_

 _Perturbo took a breath. Was this how Fulgrim felt when he was lost, staring at an impossible odd? The monsters were getting closer now, his locus destroyed during the initial boarding breach, as did his bodyguard. Perturabo looked back at the fleet and pride boomed within his two hearts. So much pride for what his sons had done and become. They would survive without him, whether they realised that yet or not. Perturabo had seen to that._

 _He took another breath and activated the vox on all Imperial channels. "Worry not, my sons, for I will return. If it should take me an age or perhaps longer, I nonetheless shall return to my father's empire. But until then, my sons, follow this commandment: do not waver. Iron Within, Iron Without!"_

 _The message was delivered just in time as Perturabo felt the ship lurch into Immaterium and the hordes were almost upon him. The primarch raised his fists, the storm bolter barrels reddened from so much firing. The likes of Angron or Fulgrim may have declared a last line of defiance to the creatures, damning them for the monsters they were as they died. To remind them who it was that sent them to hell. But he was not them._

 _And with that the wrist-mounted cannons of The_ Logos _boomed and the creatures of Cawl knew nothing as the Praetorian of Terra killed them in silence._

* * *

Solomon Avak, Triarch of Olympia

As unyielding as the iron of his Legion's namesake, Solomon Avak is the pinnacle of what it means to be an Iron Warrior; unyielding, calm and ruled by a brutal efficiency directed against the foes of the Imperium of Man. Solomon rose to the position of Triarch for his actions as warsmith against the Ork hordes of the Big Mek Warlord Uzzjaw and his gargant hordes. Where many of his fellow Astartes and the soldiers of the Imperial Army privately thought that they were doomed against the odds of the Ork horde, it was Solomon who followed the example of his father and laid traps for the beasts and manned the walls to defy the xenos.

It was this victory that led to many believing that Solomon would one day claim the title of Triarch, though few assumed it would be the station of Olympia. The Triarch Ferrok, Solomon's mentor, was killed clashing against the Imperial Fist warband of Darnath Lysander. Solomon succeeded his mentor as Triarch, and now rules Olympia in the Lord of Iron's name. Two times Solomon's and Lysander's paths have crossed and two times legendary battles were fought. Solomon has yet to claim the skull of the traitor for he now rules Olympia and his heavy responsibilities require him to remain on the Legion's home-world for years at a time, but woe to any that would attempt to lay Olympia low. For the Triarch of Olympia suffers not the cruel.

* * *

 **Homeworld**

Olympia is a unique oddity; half is the mountainous shining metropolis is was during Perturabo's youth and the other half a blasted wasteland razed due to the actions of Dorn and Nurgle. It is a world rich in metal ores, something which the Iron Warriors heartily take advantage of by having their fellow Olympians mine the ore to help fuel the constant war-engine of the Iron Warriors. With the aid of the Iron Warriors the people of Olympia are slowly reworking on the ruined half of Olympia but it is a slow work, made worse by incessant raids by the Traitor Legions, principally the Imperial Fists. Still, Olympia is as hardy as its Legion and has managed to fend off the various attacks made by traitor warbands and rampaging xenos alike.

 **Organisation**

* * *

Berossus, The Elder One

One of the oldest loyalists still alive who had fought during the Great Crusade and Sanguinary Heresy itself, Berossus is one of the three Triarchs of the Fourth Legion; the leaders of the Iron Warriors, created by Perturabo to act as his advisors and who now lead the IV in Perturabo's absence. A reason Berossus has lived such a long life is due to the unique Contemptor Dreadnought suit that he was inferred into after being dearly wounded by Perturabo himself - something which the legionnaire did not hold against his gene-father. Berossus has fought by Perturabo's side in many battles and is regarded highly by all the Iron Warriors for his knowledge and wisdom.

In battle the Elder One is a terrifying sight as his Dreadnought suit is armed with enough weaponry to shame even a Baneblade and with such firepower he has dismantled entire enemy strongholds by his lonesome. And when some attempt to bring Berossus down by other means, the ancient Dreadnought simply uses his own bulk and the killing claws attached to his feet to butcher those foolish enough to try. But the advancing years have begun to weigh heavily on Berossus, causing the periods of cryo-sleep to grow longer and longer. It is even rumoured that soon the Elder One may need to be replaced among the Trident for some fear that dementia is beginning to set in, causing confusion and becoming a disaster in the making.

* * *

To insure that his sons could survive without his guidance Perturabo gave his Trident a greater authority over the command of his Legion after the First Cadian War. There is always three in the Trident with the current ones being: Berossus, the only member to not be replaced over the long years; Solomon Avak, a Triarch who rose to the position for his cunning and now rules Olympia as its Triarch, making him the de facto Legion Master in the eyes of the High Lords; and the youngest being Honsou, who recently rose to the position for his actions in successfully routing a Ultramarine warband by led by the notorious Uriel Ventris.

Beneath the Triarchs are the warsmiths, the Iron Warrior equivalent to a Chapter Master. Each of one of these transhuman legionnaires are leaders of a grat company of Iron Warriors, many of which are stationed across the various Iron Cages or worlds deemed vital to the internal integrity of the Imperium. Each great company of Iron Warriors is broken further into battalions, led by captains with the battalion platoons led by lieutenants. This regimented organisation has allowed the IV to disseminate successfully across the Imperium to better defend from enemies, both external and internal. Iron Warrior units fight like well-oiled machines. Many of the Army regiments attached to the Iron Warriors often find themselves as well regimented as the Iron Warriors themselves - or at least as close as mere mortals can realistically accomplish.

 **Combat Doctrine**

Astartes often fight in a small squad, not often are entire arms of these warriors are seen and only in the gravest of circumstances does this happen. The Iron Warriors are a stark contrast to this and when they go to war it is often in great iron swathes. Alongside them many forms of tanks and war engines can be seen alongside them ready for war; PDF and Imperial Regiments are quickly trained to work in tandem with the Iron Warriors. Though times that the Iron Warriors take the offense are often rare as their fortresses are armed to the teeth with deadly traps designed to make it a near-impossible feat for foes to even take the fortress to begin with.

Due to the effects of the Martian Schism, the Iron Warriors have a mixed relationship with the Mechanicum. A majority of tech-priests have not forgotten the knowledge lost in the wake of the Schism, caused by necessary actions undertaken by the Iron Warriors, however within the Collegia Titanica feel indebted to the Iron Warriors, often causing Titan Legios to march alongside the Iron Warriors to war. Despite this tense relationship, the forces of the Mechanicum will always answer the call of the Iron Warriors, honouring oaths sworn over ten thousand years ago, no doubt for fear of a second castigation.

 **Beliefs**

 _"We are like iron; undaunted and firm. Let the traitors claim our blood has grown thin from the days when the Emperor walked among His people. They lie to hide their own weakness and frailty, for I see they are not driven by honour, duty or loyalty but rather hate, greed, and sadism. So let them all come; traitors and xenos all. They shall be broken. And here we shall stand."_ \- Quote attributed to Triarch Berossus.

* * *

The Iron Warriors are unshakable in their devotion to the Imperium. Much like their own father they are humble in their achievements. Despite acting as the wardens to all three major warp storms, the Iron Warriors seem to care little for proclamations of their greatness and their achievements of the past. They fight on uncaring for such things; though this does not make them poor warriors. The Razing of Olympia taught them to appreciate the beauty of a world and they fight to preserve each world in the Imperium, much like the Emperor's Children and few others.

* * *

Legio Mortis, The Death's Head

Legio Mortis have fought alongside both the Sons of Horus and the Iron Warriors and there's is a legacy of heroism and loyalty. During the Great Crusade the Legio Mortis fought hundreds of campaigns alongside Horus and his Luna Wolves, and in that time developed a deep personal loyalty to the Warmaster, and by extension, to the Imperium. Throughout the Heresy they fought bitter battles against their brother Titans but it was during the Schism that they bowed to the Iron Warriors in thanks for freeing them from their obligation to Mars and allowing the retrieval of _Dies Irae_ to be possible. At the Siege it was the cannons of _Dies Irae_ and its fellows that brought down the great Sky Fortress of Dorn; bringing one of the first forays of daemon-engines down upon the traitors that created it.

Currently, the Legio Mortis is embroiled in the Siege of Hydra Cordatus where they clash against several Houses of Traitor Knights and the Titans of Legio Tempestus. Commanded by the cruel Princeps Ervin Hekate, who longs to take the _Dies Irae_ as his own, Legio Tempestus fights alongside its Imperial Fist allies, yearning to humble and wound their old foes by claiming the Fourth Legion gene-seed stored there in great numbers.

* * *

 **Recruitment and Geneseed**

Once the Iron Warriors only recruited from Olympia but in the wake of the harrowing First Cadian War they have spread to picking recruits from various worlds located near the Iron Cages – a prime example being Cadia. The world closest to Hell seems to breed a hardy people who are incredibly resistant to the mutations of the warp. An asset prized highly by Iron Warrior Apothecaries and Librarians.

Their proximity to the great warp rifts they guard against has led to mutation frequently occurring throughout the Legion to the point where many are often forced to remove a mutated limb; and due to this it has made it difficult for the Apothecaries of the Fourth Legion to rapidly increase Iron Warrior numbers. Luckily, the ever-wise Perturabo ordered the construction of caches of gene-seed for his sons to keep their numbers sufficient as the sons of Perturabo are constantly needed as more and more threat appear as the centuries grind ever onwards. The most well-known location, outside of Olympia, is Hydra Cordatus, protected by Triarch Honsou, though that is currently under siege by a mixture of Dark Mechanicum forces and warbands of Imperial Fists.

 **Battle-cry**

The battlecry of the Iron Warriors when facing those that would defy their Imperium is often the cry of their Primarch: "Iron Within, Iron Without!." Though the Iron Warriors often don't cry out during their battles; preferring to keep calm and collected during battle.

However, when faced with the Imperial Fists cries of, "You shall not endure us!" or "We shall break you for Olympia and the Praetorian!" can often be heard alongside other bitter cries to avenge the deaths of those that Dorn and his putrid ilk have slain. And when faced with the mocking scorn of those Ultramarines of Marius Gage, only unforgiving roars can be heard across the vox, something which is noted to be out of character for the typically taciturn Legion.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter done and this time the Iron Warriors. Perturabo has always been something of an enigma, always wanting to be noted by someone but too proud. Here the influence of his foster-siblings allowed some compassion in him, something which saved his soul. Next up are the White Scars, the damned riders of Chaos!

Once again, want to give a big shoutout to my beta reader Tanner 151 who's help allowed for this recent chapter to run more smoothly then previous ones and endures my mad heretical ramblings for the fic. Check out his works as they're pretty awesome.

Feel free to leave a review as all are welcomed, and I hope you all have a good day!


	5. Index Astartes: White Scars

**White Scars: The Pale Riders That Herald Thunder**

 _The Fifth Legion was once the Emperor's venerated huntsmen, noble outriders that travelled through the great expanse of the galaxy. Once, they hunted Humanity's foes, running them down and showing all those that would defy Mankind that they were the greatest hunters ever to have existed. Now they ride at the front of great hordes of the Lost and Damned, howling death and hate to the wind and skies of countless worlds. Dark oaths to foul gods are ever upon their lips as they simmer with unholy power. Their bikes are now a nightmarish mixture of metal and the daemonic, ever eager to hunt down their prey. Woe would befall the Imperium if any warrior was able to unite the fragmented White Scars - for that would herald the Final Hunt and even the stars themselves would scream…_

* * *

 **Origins**

Mankind once ruled the stars. In times almost completely forgotten, this vast realm spread across the breadth of the galaxy, rivaling the ancient empire of the deathless Necrons and the vainglorious Eldar before their tragic Fall. But then came the Old Night and Mankind became oppressed, divided and isolated, regressing in their fear of the horrors that spawned. Old superstitions once cast aside were readily embraced in hope of salvation from the darkness. Old names of dark gods were called in the hopes that their gaze would fall upon the worthy. Many worlds soon fell into the arms of the Dark Gods but few made such a legacy of that as Chogoris: the world that birthed the hunters.

Chogoris was a breathtaking world of imposing mountains and immense plains with deep oceans covering a quarter of the world. The humans on the planet were divided into many tribes, savage and expansionist. The Plain Wars as they were known lasted for centuries without end. Eventually a confederation of tribes came together to form the largest Chogorian empire on the planet, led by a hereditary monarch called the Palatine, whose heavy infantry and armoured horsemen allowed the Palatines and his aristocratic nobles to rapidly expand across Chogoris. Despite their many advantages, both militarily and industrially, the Palatine's empire was unable to conquer the vast steppe expanse known as the Empty Quarter. In the Empty Quarter, the tribes had retained their barbaric customs and were able to deny the annexation of their homelands into the empire.

It was onto Chogoris that Jaghatai Khan descended, landing in the midst of the Empty Quarter. His pod tore through the skies as the tribes of Chogoris watched on in wonder at the sight. Meanwhile, the shamans and hedge-sorcerers of the Chogoris' many tribes prompted their own lords to action. This was seen as a gift from the gods; a great prize that when claimed will lead the tribe in question to power and glory. And so the tribes raced to be the first to claim this prize from the stars.

It was the tribe known as the Tokmar that found the wreckage of Jaghatai's pod after fighting off the many rivals that longed to claim whatever trophy that had fallen from the sky. The Tokmars were marauder horsemen that worshiped four great spirits of the stars known as: the Four Hunters. It was them that gazed into the crater made by the pod and saw the small babe in the ruins. The chieftain looked down at the child and weighed up sacrificing it to the Four Hunters for glory but something stayed his hand. Instead, he took the child for his own to raise it for the gods' glory.

And so it was among the Tokmar that the child that would be known as Jaghatai Khan was raised. The chieftain of the Tokmar was a ruthless warlord and passed such knowledge onto his son, knowledge that the young Primarch absorbed swiftly thanks to his demigod physiology. Many Inquisitorial historian-archivists have argued over the chieftain's intentions for the young Primarch due to the chieftain had trueborn sons to carry on his legacy. Perhaps the chieftain viewed Jaghatai as a valuable asset to the tribe as the shamans proclaimed.

The boy grew larger and greater as time passed proving to the shamans and mages of the tribes that he was destined for greatness. Jaghatai was soon revered due to his prowess and military genius. He embodied Chogorian tribal nobility and its ancient savage traditions; honouring the great Four Hunters through his deeds on the battlefield. Many among the Tokmar believed that Jaghatai could rule the whole of Chogoris if he put his mind to the task. But the Primarch seemed uninterested; seeing such unification as unnecessary, the dream of overambitious, simpering politicians. He preferred the freedom of the steppes and plains, believing the struggle produced eking out an existence there produced strong warriors and preserved the tribes.

For a time, there was relative peace among the tribes of the Empty Quarter, only raiding and border skirmishes occurring to maintain their warriors' skills. But soon war come to Chogoris as the newest Palatine pushed to expand his empire westward into the Empty Quarter. The initial phases of the war were devastating to the tribesmen, with powerful clans such as Kurayed and the Talaskars being nearly wiped out, with the survivors fleeing to the safety and security of the Tokmar. This war pushed Jaghatai to his brink as the Palatine was merciless his tactics and had numbers and resources at his side. The tribesmen simply lacked the numbers to directly confront and defeat the Palatine's armies. And so the Tokmar attempted to parlay for peace by kidnapping one of the Palatine's daughters with the assistance of their allied clans. But instead of honouring the bargain, these allied clans slew the child in revenge and drew not only the Palatine's ire onto them but Jaghatai's as well.

Now Jaghatai and the Tokmar fought not only the eastern invader but their former allies as well, many refusing to recognize Jaghatai as the Great Khan of Khans, or Khagan as the title was also known. During a battle defending a nearby Tokmar village and hallowed temple to the Four Hunters, the Primarch was unhorsed by Palatine forces, and while the demigod reaped a great tally of kills he was eventually subdued and believed dead by the Palatine's warriors. It was only through his Emperor-forged physiology that he survived and walked for hours on the brink of death back to the Tokmar camp… only to find it and the temple in ruins.

* * *

 _The scent of scorched meat and charred bones filled Jaghatai's nose as he stumbled among the burning camp. It was a humbling sight; to see this great giant walk on his hands and knees in despair. Ruin had befallen the camp - and worse. Bodies could be seen defiled and skinned - left as carrion for the scavengers to feast upon._

 _There was no honour in this massacre._

 _No purpose._

 _And as Jaghatai screamed his rage and despair to the thundering skies, the sounds of daemonic laughing could be heard echoing back at him from the endless skies. It was in this moment Jaghatai Khan as the galaxy would come to know him was truly born._

* * *

Revenge burned through Jaghatai's veins and to do so he knew he needed the tribes of Chogoris against the Palatine united under his banner. So he went to those tribes offering them two choices: kneel to him or be destroyed. Only the foolish denied this fearsome demigod, and those few that did defy were crushed in lightning-fast campaigns. This great assembled horde began to praise Jaghatai Khan as the unifier of Chogoris, the chosen of the Four Hunters. Jaghatai began raiding lands of those tribes that supported the Palatine; desecrating their corpses and leaving them as evidence to the Palatine of the primarch's desire for vengeance. They were denied any mercy and were massacred as brutally as the Tokmars were. The message was clear to Palatine that there would be no mercy.

There was no quarter given as Jaghatai's hordes tore through the lands and palaces of the Palatine. But as they tore through the empire, Jaghatai saw that the Palatine worshiped much darker aspects of the Four Hunters. The idols found looked dissimilar to the yaksha; daemons of Chogoris. Jaghatai denounced such things as blasphemy but some modern Inquisitors believe it was here that Jaghatai became susceptible to the corrupting nature of the Dark Gods; that it was here that they made their mark on Jaghatai's soul.

The Primarch become more and more brutal as the campaign stretched on, perhaps due to expose of the dark idols. All forms of guest-right and parley were ignored or outright violated and the Palatine found himself overwhelmed by this monstrous defiling of the old laws of Chogoris - as even his own destruction of the Tokmar's was still within his right.

The tribes of the Warhawk, a title rightfully claimed by Jaghatai, soon took the capital of the Palatine's empire, and even though the defenders fought to save their home it was soon breached and ransacked. Jaghatai himself reaped a brutal tally as he fought his way to the Palatine's throne room, to come face to face with the man that instilled this urge for vengeance inside of him.

* * *

 _The old man quivered as the monster prowled around his throne like some predatory cat, muscles tense with killing intent. The Palatine thought back to the empire his family had created through their ambition and cruelty; built on blood and sweat. His last city was aflame and his people lost. All due to this… thing._

 _"You have lost," the giant declared, his tone full of calm fury. "You have now paid for the blood of my people."_

 _"Your people were murderers and double-crossers!" The old man found himself shocked at his fury. But his inevitable fate had a way of making one bolder. "My daughter was killed by your people's hand! They broke a sacred bargain, the Four Hunters spit on their souls now! It was my right to see justice done!"_

 _Silence reigned across the throne room as the old man watched the giant weigh his words, he seemed to be considering them and with slow deliberation began to turn away. The old man let out a sigh as he believed he was to be spared._

 _Only for the giant to absently slice at the old man, the sword slicing through flesh with the ease of cutting through silk. The old man gasped as he was bisected and left bleeding out before his throne._

 _The last words he heard before his soul was taken into the void was the scornful sneer of Jaghatai Khan. "And now it is my right to gain revenge, oh emperor of lies…"_

* * *

With the empire of the Palatine in ruins it fell to Jaghatai to lead the people of Chogoris - though Jaghatai cared little for such a title as ruler. Still, begrudgingly, Jaghatai was placed into the role of leader, though left the micromanaging of his world to his many advisers. The Great Khan was far more content in hunting down the many monstrous predators of Chogoris, though despite his desire to lead, Chogoris thrived under his rule. No doubt due to many remembering the civil war he instigated which burned the world. It was ten years after his rule that the Emperor came to claim His son, appearing on Chogoris with an army of golden warriors.

Jaghatai bowed in the presence of one who he knew as his father, and Chogoris was brought into the fold of the rising Imperium, and the Khan was brought to his sons. Jaghatai Khan learned of his father's plan to expand Humanity across the stars in a powerful empire - one not too dissimilar to that of the Palatine. Something which would have dark results in the days to come.

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"Chogoris is a world of ancient traditions and great steppes, my sons! To hunt and ride is the greatest honour upon that world, and the bond between man and steed is unbreakable. I led tribes to bring down a tyrannical monarch through unity and brotherhood. I shall teach you these values and elevate you into something greater, for we shall be like the elements. We are roaring thunder!"_ \- Speech attributed to Jaghatai Khan upon assuming command of the Fifth Legion

* * *

With that the Fifth Legion began its duty to the Imperium as its vanguard riders. And many of the Khagan's tribesmen that survived Chogoris' unification were brought into the ranks; swelling the Legion's size and ascending the Legion's hierarchy rapidly, which was named the White Scars after one of the Tokmar's tribal allies that were wiped out during the war. This favoritism irked those legionnaires who were part of the V prior to Jaghatai's command, viewing it as nepotism - something which the Emperor's Legions should rise above.

Upon taking command of his Legion, Jaghatai brought many of the traditions of Chogoris with him, quickly suppressing the old traditions of the V. Many called out to the Emperor to quash such notions and beliefs - viewing them as similar to those beliefs that were to be quashed over the Great Crusade. But the Emperor ignored such complaints, something which confuses many archivists to this day. Perhaps the Emperor would have viewed it hypocritical to quash such beliefs given he allowed the likes of Russ and Angron to keep the brute traditions of their own homeworlds.

Other than that the actions of the Warhawk were fairly unknown; it seemed he did not care for the boasts of victories, unlike his many other war loving brothers nor the mass adoration that many of the Primarchs received. Mortal troops rarely fought alongside the Fifth Legion, no doubt due to how difficult it was for them to adapt to the hit and run tactics of the White Scars, who prized mobility and blitzkrieg tactics above all else. There was also the contempt which the White Scars felt for their mortal counterparts.

As for the Khan's relations with his brothers, they were strained due to his own reserved personality. He was noted to be close to Sanguinius, seeing the Angel's wings as a great blessing. He likewise got along with Magnus, seeing his psyker abilities as mystic powers. A blessing which the Cyclops should not be shunted for, the Khagan proclaimed the rare few times he was in Imperial territory and not far beyond the Imperium's borders as was the want of the Fifth Legion. There amidst the wild of untamed space, they thrived, exulting in the hunt and being free to do as they desired without the prying eyes of the Imperium.

Other Primarchs, however, the Warhawk despised. Chief among them being Fulgrim, whom he hated due to the Phoenician's arrogance coupled with a few choice remarks he made about the White Scars' tactics. Russ was likewise held in contempt by the Warhawk, no doubt due to his insistence that the Stormseers of the Fifth Legion were witches like the Thousand Sons. Russ' hypocrisy irked Jaghatai, who loathed to see this upstart barbarian king besmirch his sons name. It was only due to the presence of his other brothers that stayed Jaghatai's hand from lashing out at his Fenrisian brother.

Jaghatai remained an enigma among the Primarchs - one that was only bested by the Hydra Lord of the Alpha Legion. The most notable conflict the White Scars fought in during the Great Crusade was the assault upon the empire of Urlakk Urg: the Great Beast of Ullanor. It was here that the White Scars gained their greatest honour - a lasting victory to echo through the ages.

Humorously, many of the Imperial archivists, chroniclers, and remembrancers present at the Triumph seemed confused by the White Scars as it was the first time many of them had been seen. This angered many of the White Scars. The V did not seek glory for glory's sake, but still expected to be respected and honoured alongside others such as the Luna Wolves, Blood Angels and Ultramarines, but the lack of proper deference from mortals at Ullanor in conjunction with cool disinterest from their legionnaire cousins, leading to a bitterness that festered in their hearts

Still, Jaghatai congratulated Horus in his ascension to Warmaster - deeming him as a worthy successor to the Emperor. And Horus longed to honour his ignored brother, dispatching him to hunt down the remnant Ullanor Ork that had begun to concentrate on the world of Chondax. To remove the last vestiges of the bestial empire, it was an honour that Jaghatai took with pride.

Unfortunately, Sanguinius became aware of such orders and saw a prime opportunity to gain a new ally for the encroaching Heresy. With many of his brothers already secretly sworn to him, Sanguinius knew he could bring Jaghatai over to his side. All the Angel would need was the aid of the Primordial Annihilator.

And so the White Scars went alone to hunt down the Chondax Orks, but what happened after this deployment has long remained a mystery to the Imperium. Those holy servants of the Inquisition with proper enough clearance have, with aid from the Thousand Sons, have piece together the fall of the White Scars on Chondax. And through their tireless work, some narrative of their fall has been pieced together.

Chondax is a dark system brimming with ancient energies from the birth of the Universe. Warp storms ravaged the system taking many ships into the Sea of Souls, worsened still by Sanguinius' interloping. This cut the White Scars off from the rest of the Imperium's forces, though this did little to worry Jaghatai. The V had long become used to fighting alone and without support. The Khagan intended to end the Orks and believed that a path back to the Imperium would've cleared by that time, after all the Orks may be primitive but were hardy. Flushing them out should take only weeks.

But when the White Scars arrived to the Chondax System, they found nothing but ruined roks - the spacecraft of the Orks - and it was then Sanguinius' allies in the warp made themselves known. They tormented the White Scars with the knowledge of their past and how they hd been denied greatness for too long, at first Jaghatai deemed them no more than xenos parasites. But the time spent amidst the warps storms wracked Jaghatai to his core, the revelation of his homeworld placed a mad fear in his heart. If these creatures were correct, the White Scars would be cast aside in favour of their more heroic and inspiring brothers. In his desperation, Jaghatai Khan felt like he had no choice.

* * *

 _"They know! The things know of Chogoris, they know our ways. Each day I try to stay true but they are right. The Emperor knows that we follow a dead religion, and if we keep to this past we shall be cast aside. For what does the Imperial Truth care for our beliefs? We are just toys, the slaves of liar emperor._

 _We have already been denied so much. These… voices know of the hunt, and claim that they are messengers of an angel of death and truth. A godly herald that can change the Imperium for the better. My sons were the first to know them. I was the first to know of them! I honoured them on the plains of Chogoris, and we shall gain glory for that. Hail to the yaksha and to the Four Hunters!_

 _We have so little left to lose, but so... so much to gain."_ \- Extract taken from The Warhawk's Ascension, the personal biography of Jaghatai Khan found by the Ordo Malleus in the Caradin Wastes.

* * *

And so, twisted by the lies of the warp the Warhawk returned from Chondax basking in glory and was sent alongside his brothers to bring Sanguinius and the others to heel for their treason against the Emperor and the Imperial Truth. The loyalists unaware that Jaghatai had chosen his side; unaware he had sworn himself to the Angel Fallen's madness over reason.

A price he would soon pay for.

 **The Heresy: A Leaderless Horde**

And so Jaghatai Khan fell into the arms of Chaos, swearing his alliance to Sanguinius in order to cast down the Emperor before the Emperor could cast him aside in turn - or so he was led to believe. With the aid of the Neverborn that followed the White Scars out of Chondax, Jaghatai Khan was made aware of Vulkan and Corax's plans to double-cross the loyalists, a plan which Jaghatai readily agreed to, for he had grudges of his own to settle.

The Fifth Primarch's Stormseers managed to mask the warp taint of his forces the best they could, though some psykers of the other Legions grew suspicious of the dark auras hanging around the Chogorians but such inquiries were squashed as all attention was directed to bringing an end to the Angel Fallen's rebellion. Soon enough, the Retribution Armada assembled in full in the Isstvan System and the war entered its next phase. The Emperor's Children, Death Guard and Alpha Legion fought on the black sands of Isstvan V. The White Scars, alongside the Ultramarines, Raven Guard and Salamanders, were held in reserve to act as the second wave which would be the death-knell of Sanguinius' rebellion, however it would not be so.

The signal came from Sanguinius to initiate their betray and so they did, and it was then the killing began in its most horrid earnest, Jaghatai relished in it; maiming and killing his way through the three Loyalist Legions, heading towards Fulgrim to settle his grudge that has planted itself in the Warhawk's heart the moment he and Fulgrim traded barbs. Though he managed to score wounds on the Phoenician, the killing blow was deflected by Mortarion and Fulgrim managed to escape back to loyalist lines. And the Death Lord and Warhawk began to trade blows. Mortarion's indomitable advance managed to even the odds against the blinding speed of Jaghatai. Slowly but surely, the Warhawk began to slow and the tide of the duel began to turn against him as Mortarion advanced with an indomitable will.

* * *

 _"Slug! Toxic-breathing dullard! You dare take my kill from me." Jaghatai bellowed, as he and the Barbaran Primarch traded blows. "The peacock had this coming, but I shall hunt him at my leisure. Yours shall be the first skull to take. The first of our false Father's sons to die!"_

 _Mortarion's great manreaper clashed against the talwar of Jaghatai, but those around the duel noted something had changed within the Warhawk. The wounds that both Fulgrim and Mortarion had given him had slowed him. And for the first time throughout the battle, the cocky smirk had left his face. He had gone from a playful predator toying with its prey to a man fighting to survive._

 _"You are slowing, brother," rasped Mortarion, his voice defiance and satisfaction all in one. "I will do my duty here and now. Fulgrim would have faltered; for all his anger he is not ready to slay a brother, not yet at least. And Alpharius is not a warrior as we are, he is a planner, a manipulator, a commander, but we… we are killers. No, the task falls to me to end you. Whatever caused your hearts to blacken, it must be stopped here and now."_

 _"I am the yaksha's hunter," barked Jaghatai, aware that he was now being pushed back._

 _Fulgrim could barely talk as they fought but now he was in the exact same situation. The irony was not lost on the Khagan. Around him he could see his sons battling to aid him. But they could do nothing against the Death Lord's elite guard, but Jaghatai would not fall here. The voices said he would serve the Angel for eternity, securing him victory and given the unrestrained freedom he craved. Had they lied? No. He would not die here._

 _Pain stabbed through Jaghatai's arm as he noted his sword arm had been sliced off by the manreaper. The Death Lord advanced, his dark eyes brimming with righteous fury - no mercy or compassion could be found in them. Jaghatai felt his ambitions falter, the promises whispered by the Four Hunters fading as his life's blood flowing out._

 _He reached out to the Hunters, opening his mind to their whispers. Power flowed into him, but it was all for naught. Mortarion rushed him and Jaghatai knew his time was over. The Hunters, sensing his fate, abandoned him, leaving him weary. He glanced towards his sons, seeing them struggle to reach him. He hoped they would endure without him. As the Barbaran power weapon sliced through the air towards him, Jaghatai steeled himself, unwilling to die silenced by fate._

 _"We are the Roaring Thu -"_

 _Jaghatai died and the denied roar of a Legion echoed across the Urgall Depression._

* * *

The effects of the Khan's death were almost immediate. The White Scars broke into an incoherent rabble, driven by mindless fury. One that could only have been surpassed by the blood-mad Iron Hands, but even the sons of the Gorgon held a measure of discipline. This lacing of disciplined coordination and command proved to be the undoing of the White Scars, however, as their bloodthirsty need to avenge their father led them to being massacred by the droves. Mortarion struck down any of Jaghatai's sons that sought to avenge him with casual ease. It took the leadership of Lion El'Johnson and the brute authority of Ferrus Manus to get the White Scars back into order - but by then the loyalists had fled, out of the Angel's grasp. The White Scars mourned their father, feeling lost without him. Not even the demise of Mortarion at the hands of Rogal Dorn could restore their spirits.

Sanguinius knew that the White Scars required leadership if they were to function with any degree of reliability and effectiveness during the civil war. It was Sanguinius that inspected the inner circle of Jaghatai to choose one among them to lead the White Scars for his glory and in the Warhawk's name. After careful consideration, Sanguinius selected Targutai Yesugei; a powerful psyker and the right-hand of Jaghatai.

* * *

Targutai Yesugei, The Stormcaller

Targutai Yesugei was the most powerful Stormseer of the Fifth Legion, and the closest son to Jaghatai. He knew his gene-father from their days on Chogoris when they had fought side-by-side against the Palatine. It was on those plains the Stormcaller swore undying loyalty to the Great Khan and he was among the first of the Chogorians to become a White Scar. Yesugei was Jaghatai's confidant and the exemplar of skill many of the Stormseers of the Legion yearned to match.

During the Council of Nikaea, Yesugei argued in favour of the responsible and limited use of Librarians and psykers in Imperial use, stating they would be a powerful weapon against the enemies of Mankind. Though pleased with the Emperor's choice at first, the following years of the Heresy have led many to believe that he simply wanted a chance to explore his psyker powers to their darkest, fullest potential. When charged with leading the Legion in his dead father's name, the Stormcaller fell into the arms of warp-craft and soon, due to his leadership, the White Scars became the favoured huntsmen of Chaos.

* * *

Under the Chief Stormseer's leadership, the White Scars dived headlong into the worship of the Chaos Gods, beseeching them to return their father to them, something which proved fruitless given the dark whims of the Ruinous Powers. With them experimenting with the Empyrean, they learned how to bind daemons to the flesh of mortals and Space Marines alike, leading to the birth of the first Yaksha Riders. Yaksha Riders were an unholy fusion of bike and flesh, combined with the possession of an unruly but weak daemon. These mad beings made the perfect shock troops as many of the loyalists were still learning how to combat the monsters of the warp in the Heresy's early years.

The White Scars were sent to harry the broken Legions of the Death Guard and Emperor's Children, a duty they relished. To the White Scars they saw it as the Angel allowing them the chance to claim revenge, unaware that in truth they were being used cannon fodder for those Legions that were still primarch-led. Sanguinius even regarded the White Scars lower than even the berserk Iron Hands - who had given themselves fully to the Blood God. While most of the White Scars fought under Yesugei, a sizable element of the V fought alongside the Angel Fallen under the personal command of Shiban Khan.

In fact it was the White Scars that acted as the barricade against the vengeful Death Guard as they attempted to split Sanguinius' forces in two, taking the brunt of the Fourteenth Legion's assaults, with the ever canny Calas Typhon manipulating their hatred of the Death Guard to his advantage. Typhon and Yesugei even fought once; a clash of martial skill and psychic prowess, and while Yesugei was greater in his mastery of the warp, hardy Typhon weathered the blows and it was only through the intervention of their brothers that the duel ended inconclusively. Both were dragged away, roaring out bloody oaths.

And while Yesugei longed to face Typhon again, orders came from the Arch-Betrayer for all the traitor forces to rally around him. Now was the time to drive the blade of treachery into the heart of the Imperium itself. The time had come to lay siege to the Throneworld itself, and to gain revenge on the Emperor who had long ignored the White Scars

 **The Siege: The Stormcaller's Fall**

When the Traitor Legions arrived to dethrone the Emperor, the White Scars fought as the Arch-Betrayer's vanguard alongside the Iron Hands. From the augur stations of Pluto to the bio-hab domes of Luna, the V rode down Imperial defenders on their rampage to the Throneworld. To the traitor forces, the victory at Terra was all but assured. The loyalists were greatly outnumbered, battle-hardened and led by the surviving Traitor Primarchs. The White Scars were casual in their killing - seeing the defilement of Terra as something to be savoured, to honour their deceased gene-sire's memory and to gain the favour of the Fell Powers. And while those Loyal Legions defending Terra did indeed fight back against the traitors, their heroism and sacrifice could not be denied, the numbers were simply too great and the loyalists were pushed slowly but surely inwards towards the Imperial Palace.

That was until the arrival of Imperial reinforcements in the form of the Emperor's Children, Word Bearers and World Eaters. Caught at the rear the traitors attempted to turn to face the threat of these new arrivals only for the loyalists to press the advantage as the Fulgrim, Lorgar and Angron began to wade into the melee. From the Inner Palace Horus led his sons in a brutal assault into the disorganised forces of Chaos; defeating Russ and the Lion in personal combat. Meanwhile, the Mournival spread out among the loyalists; acting as beacons of hope and heroism inspiring faltering Imperial units, mortal and transhuman alike.

The Stormcaller knew that while he could not kill Horus he could slay his sons, and with them dead the morale of the loyalists would waver further and could even tip the balance in favour of the traitors. And so, he hunted out members of the Mournival, and he found the right hand of Horus himself: Abaddon the Faithful, the first son of Horus. And the battle of the Wolf of Luna and the Stormcaller became the stuff of legend.

* * *

 _Abaddon gritted his teeth, as burning warp energy ensnared him and sent him tumbling into a broken statue of one of the many mortal heroes of the Great Crusade. Abaddon cursed under his breath as he looked at the twisted form of Targutai Yesugei, the Chief Stormseer of the Fifth Legion. The Chogorian radiated dark power as the skulls and bones that adorned his armour crackled with dark lighting. He raised his hand and Abaddon darted behind the ruined statue._

 _"Run, you dog of war!" bellowed Yesugei, as his fell powers smashed into the statue, dust and grit began to clog Abaddon's eyes and he bitterly regretted casting his ruined helmet aside. "You think you can defeat me, Abaddon? No. It is I who is hunting you!"_

 _Abaddon growled, he had no time to trade words with a traitor. He'd seen first-hand what these powers truly were and what they desired. They weren't making Humanity mightier, but weaker. Turning them into slaves and Yesugei was only too willing to allow them. Abaddon took a breath as he activated his power sword; he only had one chance, and if he faltered he'd be dead._

 _Abaddon leapt over the ruined statue and broke into a run that would shame even the loping beasts of the Vlka Fenryka, he ran full speed towards Yesugei shot warp-blast and bolt at Abaddon. He weathered the blow, though he felt his armour and skin melting together. Yesugei's eyes widened in fear and shock as Abaddon neared him._

 _He raised his staff to finish Abaddon until the sound of a single las took out one of Yesugei's eyes, he cursed as he turned to the mortal soldier that fired the shot. Only too late did he realize the ramification of his distraction, he swung out his staff but Abaddon caught the foul thing and tore it from his grip. Yesugei could only gasp as the blade pierced his hearts._

 _"Is that your best, cousin?" Asked Abaddon, now he would trade words with the traitor to remind him the folly of his actions. "Your best will not do. You entered our woods only to find you are surrounded by wolves. This is our world, and you shall be cast to the dark. Goodbye, cousin."_

 _With a wet crunch Abaddon tore the blade free of Yesugei before raising the blade in tribute to the mortal soldier who fired the blast only to find him gone. Abaddon pushed confusion aside; there were heretics still breathing that needed to be killed._

* * *

With Yesugei's death and the following news of Sanguinius' demise, the traitors' resolve broke. While some of the primarchs like Dorn and Manus pushed for a continued assault, the fleeing Blood Angels left their brothers to die under the guns of the loyalists, the dark irony not lost on the White Scars. Some champions of the White Scars initially tried to keep the V in the battle, to fight alongside the Imperial Fists and Iron Hands to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. But the loyalists, driven with vengeful grief at the death of Horus Lupercal and the Emperor's mortal wounding, killed thousands of traitor legionnaires to perish, eventually causing the three Legions to follow the Ninth Legion's example.

Only the foolhardy fled to Chogoris in search of safety, as the vengeful World Eaters lived up to their name and those traitor homeworlds that did not flee into the warp were bathed in fire and left desolate rocks. A majority of the White Scars fled either into the warp or to the far reaches of space, to locales where even at the height of the Great Crusade, Mankind did not venture.

 **Post-Heresy: Riders of Chaos**

It is argued that out of all the Traitor Legions, it was the White Scars that fell the furthest. They were bereft of a Primarch during the Heresy, used as bolter fodder throughout Sanguinius' rebellion, and Jaghatai Khan's successor perished beneath ferocity of Ezekyle Abaddon. There was no place for them in the Eye of Terror nor the Ruinstorm to carve out empires, and their fellow traitorous cousins cared little for them. Even Blood Angels – despised and attacked by all - at least had some form of leadership in the form of Raldoron. Yet, despite all odds the White Scars are still mighty, reaping and reaving many worlds in search of slaves and plunder for the Dark Powers.

The most recent clash between the loyalists and the White Scars would be the brief war between the Alpha Legion and White Scars known as The Hunt of Voldorius. Kernax Voldorius was a Strikemaster among the Alpha Legion, and it was upon the world of Quintus he was sent by his shadowy leaders as they had discovered a piece of technology from the Dark Age of Technology; something that had to be kept out of the hands of the Archenemy at all costs.

It is unknown how the White Scars came to know about this dark relic; perhaps it was their Stormseers sensitivity to the whims of the Dark Gods. But it made no difference in the end, they descended on Quintus like a pack of wolves cutting off the small force of Alpha Legionaries from escaping. Kernax knew that he and his brothers would have to make do with the PDF forces and his own hundred Space Marines. The White Scars, in comparison, knew it was them that had the advantage and were more than willing to spend time plundering the world at their leisure.

* * *

Kor'sarro Khan, the Rising One

The notorious warlord known as Kor'sarro is one of many rising White Scars who seeks to gain the attention and favour of the Dark Gods. Kor'sarro is noted to be charismatic individual by the standards of his brothers; eager to unite them in revenge for their father. One of Kor'sarro's most dangerous feats was being titled the Master of the Hunt, and served at the right hand of the Noyan-Khan Droko in his wild pursuit of Eldar Craftworlds.

It was here that Kor'sarro became aware of a dangerous daemon known only as the Moondrakken and longed to have the creature as his steed. Hunting it through the Empyrean Kor'sarro found his quarry and for many hours - or even years for time is malleable within the Immaterium. Eventually, Kor'sarro wore the beast down and with the aid of his Stormseers bound the daemon to his bike, and was rewarded with the Chaos blade Moonfang. Now, hungry for more power, Kor'sarro plans to reach new heights as the greatest Noyan-Khan.

* * *

That was until, the Raven Guard appeared longing to claim the dark artefact for Tzeentch. Kernax knew he could use this to his advantage and so when the leaders of the respective warbands, Kayvaan Shrike and Kor'sarro Khan, met he had one of his own men sent to disrupt this council of warlords. The gambit worked but Kor'sarro survived and it was this assault which roused the White Scars to brutal action. They now knew not to underestimate their foes and unleashed all that they could to end the Alpha Legion opposition and to take back the weapon.

The White Scars tore through the Quintus PDF, unleashing many of their Yaksha Riders and mutant hunting beasts. The mortal soldiers could only do so much against such monstrous opponents and even the Alpha Legion was having difficulty in keeping the PDF's morale up. Something made worse by the constant vox-chatter made by the White Scars; threats to peel skin and flay bone for having the audacity to defy their Khan. Soon, many of the PDF forces threw their arms out in hopes to be spared by the pale riders. Some were and would become slaves, but many more others were killed or kept as food for their beasts.

The Alpha Legion did not bow so easily and their expertly executed guerrilla tactics soon angered the White Scars, this coupled with the fact that Imperial forces were now coming to Quintus to aid the Alpha Legion pressured the White Scars into more and more dangerous tactics. Soon, the world was ravaged by all manner of daemons called forth by the Stormseers and the White Scars tore down buildings through their constant rampaging. And even Kernax could not hide forever, Kor'sarro Khan hunted down the ever elusive Strikemaster and fought him on the steps of a ruined temple to the Emperor.

The pair dueled for what seem like hours on the steps of the temple, Kernax wielding a baleful spear and Kor'sarro, a screaming warp-wrought blade. Kernax was unable to fight to his fullest, however, due to the to the ancient weapon's nature he carried. A simple ball of unknown metal and origin which could drain worlds of life if allowed, the Strikemaster carried the cruel thing letting it slowly sap his strength rather than let it take the life of Quintus and its remaining loyalists inhabitants. Something, the traitorous Khan sneered at. Still, Kor'sarro had made the same mistake as he did at the beginning of the hunt by allowing his more sadistic tendencies to run riot. As he dueled the Strikemaster he did so to toy with him, to watch the ancient weapon drain him.

And in doing so, gave a fleet of Imperial and Night Lord forces the chance to aid the Alpha Legion, their combined fleet tearing through the White Scar voidships. Now with the odds stacked against Kor'sarro and his forces having fled, scuttled away lest he die, leaving many of his warband's mortal servants to die at the murderous claws of the Night Lords. But Kor'sarro was not crushed by his defeat but inspired - here he saw a chance to redeem himself and the White Scars. He had learned more about himself as a leader and knew the limitations and his strengths. And with this understanding the warlord now aspires to unite his fellow White Scars under his banner - and to claim the ancient super-weapon that the Alpha Legion stole from him.

 **Homeworld**

Chogoris was burned by the World Eaters and other Imperial forces in the Heresy's aftermath, leaving the leaderless White Scars to spread across the stars in the hopes of finding a new world. Many went into the Eye of Terror, some claiming daemon worlds in the name of the White Scars as well as to establish powerbases in the Great Eye. Others travelled beyond the border of the Imperium, navigating and hunting where even the Imperium dared not tread. There many found primitive worlds and ruled over them like petty tyrants - the irony of such an action lost upon them.

In truth, it is fortunate to Mankind that the White Scars have been remained scattered among the stars for so many centuries with each Khan attempting to carve his own kingdom in either the warp or real-space. This lack of a proper homeworld means that the White Scars are left stranded without any world to call a safe haven or to muster in full. This has kept the V divided - though they have grown and adapted to deal with such hindrances. Proving that even left broken among the stars, the servants of the Ruinous Powers are still to be feared and reviled.

* * *

Shiban Khan, Daemon-Rider of the Three-Storms

Shiban Khan is one of the foremost leaders of the White Scars; a maniacal Daemon Prince of the Four Powers who leads a great horde through the tides of the warp. Once, Shiban served at the hand of Jaghatai Khan leading many brotherhoods of White Scars to glory throughout the Great Crusade but those days are long forgotten. Now, he serves only his own dark whims as a being of the warp and is known by many titles due to his infamy: The Wolf of the Exhaust, The Immortal Rider and Lord of Blood-Roads.

Many an inquisitor has tried to find a way to track this crazed being but Shiban movements seem untraceable; emerging from warp tears and appearing in real-space undaunted, followed only by those who can keep up with the mad rider. He rides upon the same warbike he did during the days of the Great Crusade, only now it is likewise warped and corrupted as him. Shiban now appears in the midst of battle, roaring to the heavens as he tears through his foes, and the warbike he rides upon roars with him. Rider and steed united in the dark intents of the Ruinous Powers.

* * *

 **Organisation**

The White Scars have been divided and scattered throughout the galaxy since the death of their primarch and his heir apparent. As a result the White Scars have remained a scattered Legion. Made further so by the loss of Chogoris. Each warband hunts and caters to their own desires rather than a single purpose dictated by a Daemon Primarch or great champion like other Traitor Legions. Despite this, warbands have united under a charismatic or powerful Khan or Noyan-Khan before for a time but none have arisen to truly unite the Fifth Legion.

The brotherhood-warbands of the White Scars are often led by a Khan - a fearsome warlord with the strength and will to keep the traitors united under his goals. Despite there being a clear hierarchy it is not uncommon for those beneath the Khan to battle for a higher standing in the chain of command. And so, the Khan must remain vigilant to avoid assassination from his brothers, and wiser Khans will often use raids as an opportunity to kill any they deem a threat to their position. The mightiest of the Khans are known as the Noyan-Khans and it is they who lead the great hordes of White Scars in Black Crusades into the Imperium.

The mystic sorcerers of the White Scars - known as Stormseers - often act as advisors to the Khans and Noyan-Khans. Acting as emissaries in matters of the warp; communicating with daemons and other lesser known beings. They are feared and respected among their fellows; both for their terrible power and for the legacy of the White Scars lost homeworld. The Stormseers often act uncaring towards the inter-rivalry of the White Scars and instead focus their efforts on their own schemes to advance the warband and the Legion.

 **Beliefs**

 _"Heed my words, slaves to the Corpse-Emperor. Listen to my benediction and despair over the truth. For I am Subotai Khan of the Eightfold Path._

 _"I shall not lie to you for you have been lied to enough. We are here to raze your world to ash and dust, to grind you all to gristle beneath the fury of our engines and to harvest your souls to add to the Great Hunt of the Stars._

 _"This has been your purpose, little things. You are all flesh to be used and discarded - cast adrift in the Sea of Souls as food for the Neverborn. Do I still hear cries and prays to your weakling Emperor?_

 _"You may cry to your Corpse-Emperor for deliverance but He shall not hear you for He did not hear our father. All that is left for you is death and the truth that our gods shall rule the stars, and it is us that shall rule as kings for their glory!_

 _"Brothers, ready the engines! We are the Roaring Thunder!"_ \- The last transmission to Hive World L'tarrin Teras, of the one of the many Imperial worlds burned in the wake of the Bloody Hunt.

* * *

The White Scars followed the path that most Traitor Legions have and have become true slaves to darkness. They still follow the beliefs of their now destroyed homeworld - praising the Four Hunters through their bloody deeds. To the White Scars there is nothing better than to despoil a world, to run down its people and bleed them for the glory of the Primordial Annihilator. But many warbands of the White Scars are divided and it is not uncommon to see opposing White Scar warbands fighting each other - something which the Imperium has taken advantage more than once. Among the White Scars, the Stormseers are respected - even by a warband's Khan - as it is them that spread the word of the Fell Gods and it is them who commands the warp's terrible power.

 **Combat Doctrine**

 _"Tear out their throat and watch them bleed. That is the best way to kill a foe."_ \- Zukala Khan, Lord of Warband of the Carrion Princes.

* * *

The White Scars often employ violent hit and run tactics; constantly harrying their foes while aiming for the weakest parts of the enemy forces. They often strike with brutal impunity - uncaring for the losses of their fellows. Often their assaults upon weaker areas of the enemy's forces is to lower and terrify morale, as they love to harvest fear from their enemies. Then when the White Scars believe their foes are weak enough, they will bring in the daemon-engines and greater weaponry to lay low their foes. The White Scars are dangerous when it comes to void battles as their fleets are often improved by foul heratek and daemonic energies.

Many of the daemonic bikes that the White Scars ride are often bonded with their owner; a nightmarish union of what Mankind could become if given in to the throes of Chaos. It is worth of note is that a White Scar will fight each other their war-bikes for they are vital to the way of warfare for the White Scars. And there is nothing more terrifying to the forces of the Imperial Army than a horde of White Scars as their war-bikes seem to roar with a bloodthirsty rage that equals that of the rider. A sight which chill mortals to their very core.

 **Recruitment and Gene-seed**

As expected among the Traitor Legions, the White Scars often replenish their ranks through the use of slaves taken from the worlds that they raid. Though unlike the other Legions, the White Scars don't suffer major mutations or destabilizing genetic deviance in their gene-seed. Perhaps this is due to them not pledging to one of the Four Powers or simple because they often keep to real-space than the Eye of Terror. In fact through their odd use of warp travel the White Scars have managed to spread their reach to the lost colonies of the Ghoul Stars making themselves masters to the primitive peoples. It is from these slaves that many White Scars are recruited from - ready to add to the Wild Hunt.

It is noted that unlike the other Traitor Legions, the White Scars are known to raid worlds just to replenish their ranks. It is believed that this is a simple terror tactic or simple the White Scars sate some sadistic tendency to be found due to the flaw of their gene-seed.

 **Battlecry**

Each warcry of the White Scars varies from each of their great hunting packs but the most common one heard is often: "For the Khan!" or "For the Four Hunters!" and "We are the Roaring Thunder!"

When facing the Death Guard, the White Scars will grow all the more cruel and rabid - memories of their slain father returning to them. When faced with the Death Guard roars of: "Revenge and retribution this day!" or "The Khagan shall be avenged!" can often be heard.

* * *

 _Kor'sarro laughed loudly and proudly as he took the head of Droko, a predatory grin threatened to split the warlord's face as he watched the shocked expression of Droko's face as he rolled away from his body. Blood sputtered from his shoulders, and then slowly fell to the earth. Another rival tossed to the dirt, they were unworthy but he was not._

 _He spread his arms wide as he gazed over the ancient arena. This arena was a place of sacred tradition to the White Scars, on a world found in the deepest crevices of the warp. Only those of the White Scars knew how to find this place without being torn asunder by the Neverborn that were tricked into guarding. And it was here the greatest warlords among the White Scars were forged. Made ready to lead their brothers in the greatest hunts. Until, of course, the object of the hunt was found or they fell upon each other._

 _From his great throne on the wall of the arena the ancient one Shiban Khan looked down at this youngling. It was rare to see the daemon prince in such a state of calm, Shiban was a creature of manic energy since the days of his ascension. But even he knew the sanctity of this moment - a chance for another to take the throne left by Jaghatai. Kor'sarro absently wondered why the daemon prince never roused the White Scars but then again, those who ascended often catered to the Great Game. Mortal ideas of revenge were beyond Shiban now._

 _But not Kor'sarro._

 _And he knew that Shiban felt this to as the great daemon prince razed a blackened talon and pointed at Kor'sarro. **"A lord for the greatest hunt. And the last. That is the one who shall lead us and we shall follow. This is my benediction. Kor'sarro is the Noyan-Khan. The last one and the one that shall leave his mark on this screaming, dying universe."**_

 _With that the great daemon prince began to fade, off to follow its own dark whims while Kor'sarro spread his arms wide in victory and began to laugh loudly. This was it, the moment of all the losses and victories had led to. His triumph._

 _"For the Khan!" He roared, a sound akin to a predator high off its most recent kill._

 _And an army of White Scars, mortals, mutants, beasts and daemons screamed back, venting their hatred and rage at a universe that had defied and cast them aside. Waving blades and claws and spewing spittle in their incandescent fury._

 _"We are the Roaring Thunder!"_

* * *

A/N: We are the Roaring Thunder! And that is another chapter done for the Sanguinary Heresy, I hope you are all enjoying them so far. The White Scars were actually a bit of an enigma to me, so it was fun reading up them to get to grips with their own history and Tanner, my wonderful beta, was very helpful in filling in the blanks.

Like I've already said I hope you all enjoyed, feel free to leave a review and have a good day!


	6. Index Astartes: Space Wolves

**Space Wolves: The Rout of Beasts**

 _The Sixth Legion was once remembered as noble savages in the days of the Great Crusade but has long since regressed into unrestrained viciousness in the name of Chaos. Now the scions of the infamous Russ are more akin to a pack of rabid wolves that prowl through the stars in search of prey. Originally proud warriors, a representation of Mankind's hardiness against even the most brutal of worlds, and were renowned for their loyalty to Emperor who were entrusted to carry out His most unforgiving of sanctions. But in the end Russ' duty to the Emperor broke him and it only took the whispers of the Angel Fallen to fall into fold of the Dark Gods. Suckled on the lies of the Ruinous Powers, Russ dabbled in their ways in hopes to perfect the Emperor's vision for humanity, but in his hubris he has been cast into nightmare of his own making. While writhed in the throes of the wolf-dream, his savage sons prey upon the Imperium, lurking in the shadows like a wolf ready to devour the lost traveler._

* * *

 **Origins**

It is believed that a man is not only forged by the path he embarks upon, and those who he surrounds himself with, but the environment in which he is raised. The primarchs proved this when they were scattered amongst the void by the vile hand of the Dark Gods. Each world that the primarchs were cast upon would soon become a reflection of their soul. Some, like Perturabo, Guilliman, and Fulgrim were raised to heroism by their people and embraced the attitudes and unique cultural of their world while others like Ferrus Manus, Mortarion, and Rogal Dorn were bred in hatred. These worlds taught the demigods bitter lessons of life by challenging them at their weakest and few worlds were more brutal and unforgiving than Fenris, home of Leman Russ, the Emperor's Sixth Son.

Fenris was similar to many worlds affected by the chaos of Old Night, devolving into competing tribes fighting over scarce resources. Technology was lost to the peoples of Fenris, either intentionally by hardy and stubborn settlers or taken from them by their harsh new home and their world's isolation. Its winters could chill a man to the very bone, freezing limbs and stopping blood in stark contrast to its summers where the heat at its burning peak scorched the very earth. Due to the planet's hazardous orbit of its star Wolf's Eye, magma spewed to the surface and the planet's geography shifted violently ever Great Year. This forced the Fenrisian tribes to be forever on the move, traversing the ever-shifting landscape as any established settlement would be destroyed in time by the fury of Fenris itself. And an unstable geography was not the only danger human inhabitants faced. Terrible monsters dwelled in the oceans and bloodthirsty predators prowled the surface, hunting down humans for food. Some were the great dragons that belched fire and lived in imposing mountain ranges, and wolves larger than Terran horses roamed the temporary icy plains, while great leviathans ruled the deeps. It is telling of humanity's durability that the Death World's colonists managed to survive as long as they did, for Fenris does not suffer the weak.

The Fenrisians were superstitious to the core, believing in both spirits and magic - even having their own shamans and witches ever watchful for portents in rune sticks and the night sky. So it was little surprise that the coming of the Sixth Primarch was seen as a sign for Fenris - though whether heralding a new age of glory or sowing the seeds of its destruction was something fiercely debated by the shamans.

And so, it was upon this world, the life-pod containing the demigod that would be known as Leman Russ landed, shattering the mountain that it collided into. It caused the animals of Fenris to howl at its calamity, while the beasts and monsters tore at each other in a rage of their silence being disturbed. The tribes of Fenris saw the great, dark star as a sign from the spirits of Fenrir. That any man that claimed this fallen star would become legend. Some ventured to look but did not survive, for a pack of wolves had made their territory near where the primarch had crashed and they tore into any intruder that dared venture onto their land.

As for Russ, oddly enough the wolves took compassion on this child - though many would curse that decision in later centuries - and took the boy into their pack. Like some hero from Old Terran myth Russ spent his early years suckling from a she-wolf's teat, learning how to kill and hunt in a pack. But as he grew, Russ could not spend his days alone forever and, when still young, he was found by a great king of Fenris: Thengir of the Russ. Thengir found the boy-primarch huddled around the corpse of his mother-wolf. Her own throat had been torn out by another monstrous creature of Fenris, alongside many other pack-mates, but not before Russ and the two youngest pups returned the favour to it. An intrigued Thengir approached the wolf-child. It is unknown what was said to convince the primarch to join him as the demigod knew not any of the human languages of Fenris. Perhaps some twist of fate prompted him or maybe the primarch knew that these were his people, his species. Whatever the reason, he was taken into Thengir's halls, and was raised by the king as a son.

The youth needed a name and it was Thengir that chose it, Leman of the Russ. He was raised in battle by Thengir, who often took the youth with him when battling rival tribesmen or hunting various beasts. Thengir taught the primarch much of the blade and how to speak the tongue of man - this made the rapidly growing demigod fiercely loyal to his king. Russ absorbed Fenrisian culture and grew to love the glory and thrill of war. Russ' youth was bloody, difficult and besot with challenges but many honours and glories were earned by him and in some other reality he might have been hailed as the greatest of primarchs - but like with many of the traitors, he would soon fall.

The mark of darkness was first planted, like with many of Traitor Primarchs, amidst tragedy. Russ venerated Thengir, seeing him as the pinnacle of what a warrior was meant to be, and so it was crushing when King Thengir died not on the field of battle but at the hand of a witch. If the witch truly did have arcane powers remains something of contention among many Imperial scholars; some argue that it was some Fenrisian doctor with means to poison, while others do believe that the witch in question was a psyker. Whatever the witch was, it ensured that the Sixth Primarch would have a scathing hatred of psyker powers - something which would have grave ramifications in the days to come.

* * *

R _uss looked down at the corpse of the witch, the woman's body have been cleaved in half by his rage, as soon as he entered the hall to see his foster-father dead on his throne and her leering face grinning at him. She said nothing as Russ' blade cut her down, but there was a witch-light in her eyes. She didn't look Fenrisian - Russ could not place her. Still, Freki and Geri feasted on her all the same so that did not matter._

 _"She was from Hel," one of the elders said, approaching the towering demigod as Russ watched his wolves feast on the corpse. "Mark me, she was not of Fenris, she was a defilement of our ways!"_

 _Russ' eyes burned as he looked at the corpse and a solemn oath passed from his lips: "I will destroy any and all like her then. By my blade I swear this."_

 _As he made that oath that would set the course for his life-thread, all in the hall failed to see the slinking shadows. They had failed to mark the grave importance of the primarch's oath, though why should they? They would not be present to see the pain it would cause. Only Russ would. Still it was horrifying sight lingering in the hall's corners, out of the gaze of all present; the shapes took on the forms of a toad, a crow, a serpent and a wolf could be seen. And they could be seen smiling._

* * *

And so it was that Leman Russ ascended to the title of king, and soon he spread his reign across the whole of Fenris itself. Many tried to stop Russ' growing kingdom, all failing. Even the great monsters held little to no sway over Fenris any longer, Russ and his warriors having struck them down. Peace reigned on Fenris - held together by the fury of a grieving son. And none would dare challenge the new High King of Fenris, for few could.

Until, one night a hermit came into the Great Hall of Russ demanding that the High King would serve him if bested in a trial of strength. Russ, bemused, agreed to the challenge and a square was made for combat. The fight was pitifully short, with the hermit laying Russ down with just one blow but it was like a blow delivered by a mountain. If Russ was not a primarch the sheer force of the blow would no doubt have caved in his head, luckily all it did was send the High King of Fenris unconscious for a few days. When he awoke, he found not a hermit but a man claiming to be his father. The Emperor revealed himself to Russ and told him of His plan and of the duty prepared by the Sixth Son.

* * *

 _"You have a brother waiting for you, as well as many sons," the Emperor explained, a distant look on His face. "Horus is one of your brothers, the First Found, and he is eager to meet you," He gave Russ a side glance, "I hope you two get along."_

 _"And what of my other brothers?" the Wolf King asked, his wolf pelt cloak trailing in the thick snow crunching underfoot._

 _"They were stolen from me, as you once were." The Emperor looked skyward where the clear night expanse of Fenris dominated the heavens. Constellations and nebulas visible, as were a moving pack of stars but Russ now knew them as voidships. "They are out there and I intend to find them." the Emperor whispered, seeming less of a golden giant and more of a common man, a father looking for his lost children. "Leman, I crafted all My sons with care, imbued them with a part of my essence. Horus is to be the commander supreme, another a scholar of unparalleled heights, another an architect."_

 _Russ looked at at the Emperor, pondering his next words. "And what is to be my specialty."_

 _The flicker of sadness came over the Emperor's face but disappeared so quickly that Russ was unsure if it had been real._

 _"The enactor of My Will, he who shall do what others cannot."_

* * *

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"I was raised by wolves - no, do not laugh it's true! I was raised by wolves and man, and this taught me many good lessons. The honour of hunting side by side with someone you could trust with your life, there is nothing else like it. But we must never forget ourselves, my sons. We are the Rout, and our burden is grim indeed. But I see your faces and I know that you will carry it well. Until then; laugh, fight and flourish. For the Emperor!"_ \- Attributed to Leman Russ, Wolf King of Fenris, Primarch of the Vlka Fenryka to his sons, the Space Wolves.

* * *

So like many of the primarch homeworlds, Fenris was brought into the growing Imperial fold. Russ was brought to meet his gene-sons and supposedly rejoiced in what he found in them for they reminded him of Fenris. Though Terran by birth, the original Astartes of the VI quickly became Fenrisian in custom, culture and language, embracing their father's ways with enthusiasm. From across the many nomadic tribes, Aspirants were taken to become the next generation of genhanced transhuman warriors. Despite being the second-found primarch, the Space Wolves were viewed with caution by the Imperium as a whole, Russ in particular falling short as an example of primarch regality that Horus had established in the Crusade's early years - though the First Found did all he could to create a kinship with Russ and the Space Wolves and succeeded in doing so. Horus Lupercal and Leman Russ would fight in hundreds of campaigns together, cementing their friendship. Yet despite being close to Horus and ever loyal to the Emperor, Russ cared little for the views of the other Legions and the mortal masses, thinking them cowards who were afraid of his and the Sixth Legion's strength and reputation.

The Great Crusade led to many awesome sagas for the Space Wolves and their primogenitor - or as they were known amongst themselves: the Vlka Fenryka. But rumours soon spread about the Wolf King and how far his duty to the Emperor truly went. These whispered that during the discovery of the scattered primarch-sons that the Emperor had found two of His gene-crafted sons wanting, though the specifics are lost to history. Regardless, it is known that the VI was deployed close to the homeworlds of the II and XI during the Great Crusade and returned to the wider Imperium having suffered heavy casualties in whatever actions they had carried out. This earned the Wolves of Fenris the moniker of the Emperor's Executioners.

* * *

 _Malcador watched the Lord of Winter and War, Primarch of the Vlka Fenryka, reside on his throne, visibly brooding. By his side, two great wolves sat - they had grown larger and stronger on the flesh they consumed. Malcador had been dispatched by the Emperor to converse with Russ and He was preoccupied with other matters. It seemed something had been troubling Russ of late, and the Master of Mankind wanted to know why. Malcador could tell that the Wolf King had been slighted by the fact that an old wizened man had been sent in the place of the most powerful human being in the species' existence. A proud king like Russ would find it distasteful, especially since the Regent was a lauded psyker, but he would have to listen to Malcador._

 _"Speak, Leman Russ of the Sixth, I will tell your father of -"_

 _"Why is it that you are here and not Him, old man?" Russ snarled, his wolves echoing the feral noise. "I have done my duty and ask for Him, to talk to Him. And he sends you to mock me!"_

 _"I have not been sent as mockery, Leman. Your father honours the duty you and yours have carried out."_

 _Russ stood up, eyes blazing with a dark, sullen fire. Now Freki and Geri whined in fear, the two of them wilting away at the fury of their alpha-brother. "And yet he dotes on freaks like Magnus and fanatics like Lorgar, while I have to suffer in the dark!"_

 _Malcador did not back down - an impressive feat for a man crushed by time and age - and instead matched the primarch's gaze. "You are not the only one of your brothers to -"_

 _"To bear the burden?! To feel the whole Imperium look down upon you, cursing you beneath their breath after giving gilded thanks you for the necessary actions I carried out? Oh yes, old man, I know they talk about us behind our backs naming us, 'kin-slayer' and 'wolves in the shape of men'. Get out, be glad you leave here alive. I will speak with my father," Russ said, before sitting back down on his throne._

 _With a bow, Malcador left the chamber, leaving the primarch to brood alone in a dark silence. Gone was the noble savage; a proud barbarian king, always willing to do his duty no matter the cost. Now, all that was left was a brute, a hollow wolf that wanted to vent its frustration on all that it could catch in its jaws. Here now, the shadows laughed harder, for they had found another to ensnare._

* * *

Some believe that it was these dark campaigns that broke Russ' spirit, coupled with his own frustrations that the Emperor did nothing to quash the rumours that had been spread about the Space Wolves by their detractors. This change in character was noted as the Space Wolves grew more and more savage, their status of being recognized as the best individual warriors - but unlike the martial and regimented World Eaters - they were seen as berserkers. Monsters sent to shatter the hope and morale of those that truly angered the Imperium. This task rankled the Space Wolves, angered that Legions like the Iron Warriors and Word Bearers were praised for their brutality, while the Space Wolves were mocked and scorned.

Soon enough mortal soldiers of the Imperial armed forces no longer fought alongside the Space Wolves. The legionnaires of the Rout found the Imperial soldiers to be lacking in the brutal savagery necessary to conquer the stars, while Imperial commanders grew concerned over the amount of losses taken in wars fought alongside the Wolf King's sons. Many commanders simply cut ties with the VI, which did little to soothe the frustrated fire in Russ' soul. The primarch's view of the Emperor's dream soon became jaded. Many a time, the demigod would darkly ponder that if humanity was not willing to bleed in the mud and do the horrible actions that necessity demanded to accomplish its dream then did it truly deserve it?

Worse still, were Russ' relations with his brothers. The Sixth Primarch's scorn for his brothers was born out of anger that they had not suffered like he had, that they had not had to carry out the sanctioned murder of their brethren as he had done. He disregarded the tragedies of Angron and Perturabo. And his savage demeanor distanced many of his fellow brothers away from him, the only two Russ seemed to not wholly despise was Horus and the Lion. Horus and Russ had been close brothers since they first met, a relationship born of healthy respect and a camaraderie forged in battle, and Horus did his best to quash the anger within Russ by having the Space Wolves fight alongside his own Luna Wolves, hoping that this would open the Wolf King's eyes to true brotherhood – but all it did was breed a well-meaning competition between two Astartes Legions on who were the better fighters.

The Lion and Russ surprisingly grew close after the Lion stole the kill of a petty tyrant that had offended Russ in a compliant operation. Russ and the Lion fought over this, until the absurdity of such a fight settled on the two primarchs. Since that battle, the two had become fast brothers - the Lion was intrigued by Russ' barbarity and Russ the Lion's chivalry. The two brothers that the Space Wolf Primarch despised above the others were Angron and Magnus. Angron was once beseeched by Imperial commanders to aid their mortal forces when the casualties caused by the Space Wolves became too high, Angron and his World Eaters confronted Russ on these and the clash soon became known as the Night of the Wolf. While the mortal forces under the Space Wolves were evacuated by the World Eaters, Angron almost lost his life to Russ' wolves.

Magnus was a brother that Russ despised on sight. He despised the closeness that the Crimson King had gained with the Emperor while he was forced to toil in silence. Magnus was aware of his Fenrisian brother's hatred of him but any attempt to rectify this by Magnus was met with maddening anger and refusal from Russ. The pair had even come to blows before being separated by Lorgar and Angron, something which simply angered Russ more. Therefore the Wolf King and Crimson King simply kept away from each other, this did little to concern the primarchs as a whole for they were some among their number that despised each other more than Russ and Magnus so it was not seen as overly worrying. It was only at the Council of Nikaea that this rivalry soon came to a vicious head.

* * *

 _"All Magnus and his get do is conspire with Hel. They are wyrd-wielders, little more than that. For their sin I argue that they should be purged for faltering. Many have died for less."_ \- Leman Russ, speaking at the Council of Nikaea.

* * *

The Council of Nikaea was a disaster for Russ, not only did the Emperor cast aside any concerns that the Sixth Primarch had about the psykers of the Thousand Sons but it ended up embarrassing Russ before the Imperium's elite. He displayed a viscous amount of foolishness at the Council, something which embarrassed the likes of Mortarion - who had legitimate concerns over the use of psykers despite his trust in the control of his sons, such as Calas Typhon, and brought research to back up his case of limiting the Legiones Astartes Librarius. Russ, instead, relied upon the words of his shamans, making the case that the Fifteenth Legion were nothing more than a Legion of warlocks that threatened to drag the Mankind back into the dark from whence it had only recently clawed its way out of. This backwater attitude coupled with Dorn's obvious and hotly worded disgust insured that those against the Space Marine Librarians were bound to lose.

Russ raged against the Emperor's Edict - further angered that Mortarion willing bowed to such a decision - and Magnus tried to beseech his brother to let go of his rage, only for him and Russ to come to blows again - this time at the expense of the life of one of Russ' wolves. This only inflamed the Sixth Primarch's anger, and led to Russ making a decision that would damn him and his Legion in the eyes of the Imperium for all eternity.

* * *

 _"The work of cowards! And sheep!" Russ roared at Magnus, the Cyclops weathered the roar with a conflicted expression. "Witches are nothing more than the killers of kings and kingdoms; you have poured a poison into father's ear."_

 _"This decision is for the best, those with such gifts should not be forced into killing themselves by denying them. Even Mortarion sees this. You, brother, reek of hypocrisy," Magnus stated calmly, his face as unmoving as the mountains of his home._

 _Leman turned, a dangerous glint in his eyes at Magnus' last statement. He approached his brother, and Freki and Geri followed. Though Magnus towered over many of his brothers, Russ did not seem perturbed, and merely glared daggers at the Magnus the Red._

 _"What hypocrisy?" he asked Magnus, his voice a predator's whisper._

 _Many would have fled at the tone but Magnus was tired of Russ, tired of his double-standards and his blindness to reality. "Those shamans of yours dabble in powers no different from my sons. Call it Rune Priest or Librarian; it changes nothing for they are one and the same."_

 _"My sons are nothing like yours, serpent!"_

 _The air grew cold as Magnus stood taller, his face hardening. "You know nothing of serpents,_ brother _. If you continue on this path, you will bring the Emperor's justice on your head. I know there are no wolves on Fenris, brother. I understand your pain but I will not let it justify your arrogance and hypocrisy. We are done here. You have lost: accept father's choice. That is all you can do."_

 _None paid attention to Freki and Geri, the two beasts grew more and more angry at the hostility between the two primarchs and as Magnus turned to leave. Freki, the more savage of the two, let out a rippling snarl. Before Russ could call him off the beast leaped, only to be broken by a savage backswing from the Prosperine Primarch, who acted on instinct at the incoming threat. Russ, however, saw only a dead wolf-brother and his vision turned red, and before Magnus could even say anything he charged the Cyclops._

* * *

 **The Heresy: Leman's Folly**

Word of the Council of Nikaea spread and Russ' response to it coupled with his brawl with Magnus did little to help the overall opinion of the Space Wolves. Already, the Emperor's executioners had an ill reputation but now very few Legions - save the Imperial Fists or Salamanders - could match the sheer vitriol that was thrown at their feet. Leman's anger burned like a sun as the Emperor did nothing to help His son, one whom He forced to carry such heavy burdens.

Russ, in his maddening paranoia, began to suspect Magnus more and more by the day, his nights were filled with dreams of fear that the Emperor would cast him aside at Magnus' word. The situation was made worse by the fact that Magnus had been taken to the Throneworld at the Emperor's behest. Russ began to see that Magnus and his sons were at fault and soon began to blame the Thousand Sons for all the woes the Space Wolves had endured. This led Russ back to Fenris, and there he went on a spiritual journey to discover his wyrd. To choose his next step in this situation he found himself in.

* * *

 _The vision spoke many things to Russ as he breathed in the icy air of Fenris, the biting winds of his home swept through his skull, and froze any moisture escaping his lips or eyes. Around him he heard his shamans chant; waving charms beseeching the spirits to speak their wryd to their primarch. Russ breathed in calmly, once again taking in the freezing air. And he felt his mind and soul travel, in the bosom of Fenris. Russ felt his spirit travel the world's chasms and snow-littered islands, and around him he felt constricting tenseness around him; like a mouse trapped by a serpent._

 _He saw an empire in ruins, human bones scattered far and wide. Leman paced through the shattered hall looking for answers in the dust. The dust. It swept aside, and Russ gaped at his answer. A skull of a cyclops, a single socket for one eye stared at him in mockery. He felt his rage grow as the baleful skull mocked him with the vision. An echoing laugh began to emit from it. Russ roared, crushing the skull under his boot. Prospero, Magnus, his sons; all the spawn of witches, all of them to blame for what he had suffered._

 _He would not let them topple father's empire, he had sacrificed too much to let that happen. His eyes burst open as he left the trance, and he looked about at the corpses of his shamans. A necessity, a fact of life he had long grown accustomed to. Russ now knew his path. Prospero had to burn, and the witches with it._

* * *

The killing of Prospero was a cruel thing. It was not only a message to the Imperium as a whole, but a form of catharsis for the indigent rage of Russ and his Wolves. The Imperium, still reeling from Sanguinius' heresy, could do little as the Wolf King and his Legion made way to Prospero. Any attempt to stop them was either met with direct orders from Russ himself to move aside or they were simply destroyed. Russ knew that with Magnus on Terra, the Thousand Sons would be vulnerable. They would crumble under the weight of his sons' united charge, and the presence of a primarch alone on the battlefield would turn the tide of battle decidedly in the Space Wolves' favour.

So, when the fleet of Space Wolves appeared in the skies of Prospero they did not announce their reasons for being there and instead began to fire upon the cities. Russ however was wrong in one regard though, and that was that the Thousand Sons would crumble with ease. Under the command of Ahzek Ahriman, the Thousand Sons rallied. This was their home, and they would not let hypocrites and their dogs take that from then. Not without reaping a heavy toll in blood from the invaders first.

Enraged by their defiance in orbit, Russ took the battle to the planet itself. Much to the Thousand Sons' dismay, the the two Legions clashed in the ruins of the great pyramids. The Thousand Sons wept as they took the life of their kin; both due to the knowledge lost by their rampaging, and the sheer weight of killing a fellow Space Marine. Despite this, their psychic powers and the aid of the Spireguard regiments managed to deny the Space Wolves, for a time. That was until Russ took to the field and with him brought the Rout's darkest secret: the Wulfen.

Russ and his bestial sons shattered the Thousand Sons lines, ill-prepared to face a primarch, but Ahzek Ahriman rallied his brothers around him once again. Reminding them that every second they fought was another life of an innocent saved as in orbit the XV fleet was taking aboard supplies, refugees, remnants of Spireguard regiments and however many XV Astartes could reach them. That and Ahriman's damning of the Space Wolves as monsters who had long harboured their own mutant curse rallied a righteous anger from the Thousand Sons, and they fought ever harder for the dying dream of Unity. Only where Russ fought was the heart taken from the Thousand Sons, for few could stand the Wolf King's wrath. Still, the Thousand Sons fought not to win but to buy time, and for that many threw themselves at the Executioner, if only to buy their brothers more time.

It was inevitable that Ahriman and the Lord of Winter and War would cross paths, as Russ knew Ahriman was the one that was keeping the Thousand Sons rallied and united and so hunted after the First Captain. The primarch needed to kill Ahriman to take the heart out of the Thousand Sons, but Ahriman devised a trap for the Wolf King. Ahriman openly challenged the Wolf King, mocking his pride and daring him to kill a simple 'witch'. Russ, in his blind hatred, fell for it, and charged Ahriman, alongside his wolf Geri… only for the buildings and great pyramids around him to start collapsing. With pure psychic strength, Ahriman buried a primarch beneath countless tonnes of rubble, killing Geri. Ahriman almost died in the attempt, and had to have his unconscious body dragged away by Iskandar Khayon. With Russ buried alive, the Thousand Sons fled Prospero, limping their way to Terra after a long and arduous journey. The XV homeworld was left to burn as the Space Wolves howled in victory.

Russ, however, snarled to his captains and priests that his massacre of Prospero was not complete. Still, he sent news to the Throneworld, proudly proclaiming that he had done his father's duty once more and that the death of Magnus' world was needed to save the Imperium from ruin. All he got in return was horror and disgust.

* * *

 _"What have you done, Leman? How could you do this? I made you to be proud, an Executioner of My Will, but not this. Not an animal. All those years ago, I should never have thought you could bear the duty I gave you. I… was wrong. Return to Terra, I will fix this. Please, My son, let me help you."_ \- The supposed transmission from the Emperor following the Burning of Prospero.

* * *

Whatever response Russ received from the Emperor was enough for him to declare his loyalty to Sanguinius. Russ felt cast aside from the Emperor, cheated and used as nothing more than a tool in a tyrant's arsenal. The Angel Fallen reached out to Russ, telling him of how noble he was, this coupled with the influence of the Lion made it inevitable that Russ would declare for the traitors. And so the Vlka Fenrykafell fully into the arms of Chaos, and the beasts within them all took full control.

Russ, with the aid of Sanguinius and the Lion, delved willingly into the worship of the warp. His Rune Priests and Wolf Priests quickly adapted to the teachings of Sanguinius' sons and soon Neverborn hosts fought alongside the Space Wolves. But the presence of the daemons seemed to aggravate the Wulfen defect to mutate within more and more of the Space Wolves. Russ grew worried that his sons would become beasts before they could enact their full revenge. This, and while he loathed to admit it, Russ knew he could never defeat Magnus. Not with the Crimson King's deep well of psychic strength and knowledge, and so turned to the Lion for help.

The First Primarch introduced Russ to the full power of the Primordial Annihilator: the path to ascension. It was to become something more than a primarch, a being more than flesh and bone, to carry a shard of a god within oneself and to be forever immortal and all powerful. Russ became enraptured by this, quickly consulting with his own shamans on how this could be done. He knew that he would need to travel into the dark realms where gods walked, the tear in reality itself that blighted the Materium: the Eye of Terror. The primarch took with him only the Thirteenth Company so that Sanguinius would not be deprived of the full might of the Vlka Fenryka. And with that he journeyed into the Eye of Terror.

Few know what Russ saw in the Eye of Terror but the Inquisition was once able to interrogate a captured Space Wolf claiming to have been among the Thirteenth Company before giving him the Emperor's mercy. The unnamed traitor claimed that his gene-sire had found a world not unlike Fenris - knowing the Dark Gods this was no doubt intentional. Here, at the prompting of his shamanic Wolf Priests and Rune Priests, Russ once again looked into the twirling threads of his wryd. However, this time he was plunged into the darkest lairs of the true warp. And ironically, became far more twisted than the psykers he despised.

* * *

 _ **"Weak,"** the voice spoke. **"You are weak, Leman of the Russ. Magnus would crush you."** Russ turned in the realm of shadows looking for who spoke those words. He snarled in anger, no man made a fool of him. No man made a fool of him. Not anymore, Prospero showed that. He searched the shadows for the voice._

 _ **"Weakness and foolishness,"** something spoke again. **"You slaved and slaved and slaved for your father, and he considers you a monster. They all do. But you are more than that, Leman, you are a wolf. Take our power and you will crush Magnus and usher in the age to come."**_

 _At first, he resisted, but their promises were many and his drive to acquire the power necessary to save Mankind was great. He relented and they slithered in to. Russ grunted in pain as the shadows seeped into his mouth, but the pain paled to the power he felt. Nothing like he ever felt before. He felt so strong, all the pain and aches of the years simply seeped away and when Leman Russ howled in jubilation he knew the galaxy would tremble in fear. For the Wolf was soon to be unleashed once more…_

* * *

Whether the heretic's story was true or not, one thing was certain: Russ left the Eye of Terror a Daemon Primarch, sworn to Chaos Undivided in all its damning majesty. The accompanying Thirteenth Company became fully warped by the dark powers of the Ruinous Powers, not only that but Freki and Geri had been returned to Russ as a boon but now the two were wolves made of shadows and warp-matter, reeking of the innocents they had butchered. Sanguinius marveled at his brother upon his return, and delighted as the spread of Chaos swept through the Vlka Fenryka as a whole. Those that lacked the will, burdened by their heresy or lacking in resolve, devolved into Wulfen and kept as war-beasts by their more genetically stable brethren and were unleashed against the loyalists as the Nine Traitor Legions neared the Imperium's beating heart.

The worlds of Beta-Garmon and Yarant acted as the twin pillars of the last formidable loyalist defense line before Sol. Elements of the IV, XVI and XX defended the Gateway to Sol, while the Night Lords in their full force defended Yarant. While the Angel Fallen led the Blood Angels and Ultramarines in the attack on Beta-Garmon, Russ and his Wolves attacked the Night Haunter at Yarant.

* * *

 _Russ dragged his sword from the belly of a Nostraman legionnaire, blood hissing as it was burned away by the power field. Entrails littered the floor but the Astartes in midnight blue still tried to fight. The Wolf King reached down and ripped out his throat and left the legionnaire to die. A squadron of the VIII Astartes, armed with krak rocket launchers, aimed at him but Russ merely bellowed as he advanced towards them. They fired but with a mere wave of his hand the rockets were destroyed in mid-air, aetheric energy wavering before him._

 _Though he had been surprised that he had spent several years, nearly the entirety of the Heresy, in the Great Eye when it had seemed like months, he nonetheless deemed it worth the effort and time, for he was now mightier than ever before. Now he had the power to match the savagery within, now he could kill Magnus. But before he could finally face the Red Cyclops he must first rid the universe of the Lord of Night…_

 _"Konrad! Come here, Konrad! Where are you? You're a damn coward. Face me and die with honour!" Russ advanced further into the Nightfall, his guard protecting his flanks, Freki and Geri prowling down the corridors, emerging from shadow to snap and claw at the defending Night Lords, dragging some into the warp to be soul-reaved._

 _From the ceiling, a demigod descended._

 _Curze's Lightning Claws clashed with Russ' sword. The innate powers Russ now wielded lashed out and hit Curze, throwing the Night Haunter back. Now with some distance separating them, Russ sized up his brother. Curze was emaciated, face drawn tight, eyes lined with grief and spittle dripping from his opened mouth. He appeared half mad, half ghoul. This was a defender of the Emperor, one of his favoured sons? Russ' vindication for joining Sanguinius was proven yet again. Russ had killed two brothers and ended their gene-lines but Curze had put entire worlds to the sword for defying Lex Imperialis yet had received praise from their creator while Russ had received naught but criticism from those around him. That arrogance, that hypocrisy ended now._

 _"You will die today, brother," he stretched that last word with distaste._

 _Surprisingly, Curze laughed, his pale skin stretching to accommodate the hysteria he displayed. "I know when I will die, I have foreseen it, as I foreseen who will wield the blade… and it is not you, Russ. You cannot kill me. Fate won't allow it."_

 _Russ ignored his brother's madness and charged forward and the Lord of Night responded in kind._

* * *

Despite the valiant efforts of the VIII, Yarant was overrun. The Night Lords, having been broken by the Space Wolves at high cost, scattered, unable to reinforce Terra in their divided state. Numerous reports stated Curze was dead, in a coma, or alive and organizing a counter-attack. Whatever the truth was, Russ rallied his sons and prepared for the next final phase of the war.

With Beta-Garmon and Yarant secured, the Angel Fallen turned his gaze onto Terra and called forth for the other Traitor Legions to join him for the final campaign. Russ and his sons were eager to enter Sol and break through the psy-barriers erected by the Thousand Sons in and around the Imperial Palace, anticipating the glory to be earned and Mankind's future to be secured.

 **The Siege of Terra: Wolfbane**

 _"The Wolves of Fenris returned to Mankind's Cradle, ready to bring fire and blood and ruin to the ignorant dogs of the False Emperor. The Rout swept through the fields of Terra, encroaching upon Palace grounds as the loping Wulfen and other monsters of Fenris followed in our wake. This was it, our revenge for Nikaea, but Magnus and his sorcerous bastard sons could not be found for they hid from our retribution. Only the loyal wolves of the Emperor were waiting for us, and the First Found clad in all his glory. He met and fought us and there before the Eternity Gate he broke us. The Lord of Winter and War fought the Warmaster but Lupercal prevailed, and broke Russ' back over his armoured knee that day. As the Wolf King fell, his sons howled in distress and the threads of the wyrd shifted."_ \- Quote taken from _The Saga of the Wolf_ wrote by Kasper Hawser.

* * *

The Siege of the Throneworld: the final battle of the multi-year spanning Heresy. It was like a scene out of legend, as wolves, both Astartes and other, snarled and fought their way to the Sanctum Imperialis. The many monsters of the Space Wolves, some summoned, others created, but all bent to their will, added great numbers to the blood-crazed clan-companies of the Iron Hands, and the steady, methodical, unending siege-engines of the Imperial Fists.

Many of the Fallen Legions bled themselves on the traps of Alpharius or the overlapping defenses of Perturabo but Russ ushered his sons onward to more acts of violence, decrying the Emperor with every breath. The Space Wolves tore through the loyalists forces, clamoring for the Thousand Sons and Magnus to make themselves known for they had unfinished business. Instead of the scions of Prospero, they were faced with a different kind of wolf: the Sons of Horus, formerly the Luna Wolves.

The Sons of Horus stood firm as the Space Wolves threw themselves at the loyalists. Captains Horus Aximand and Garviel Loken were among their number and the two heroes of legend reaped a mighty toll on the Space Wolf ranks. Wulfen alphas, Neverborn, and Space Wolf lords all fell to the two Mournival Lords' blades. The Space Wolves, despite their warrior-might, soon found themselves being pushed back by the Warmaster's sons, made worse when Horus himself entered the fray, hunting for Leman Russ.

Any foolish enough to stand against Horus Lupercal were cast aside with casual ease. Many survivors of the Eternity Gate defense remarked that the expression on Horus' face wasn't anger, or even sadness. Just calmness, nearly serenity. It was time that left no doubt, no sorrow, only duty. Horus directly challenged Russ to face him as the Warmaster scattered squads of Space Wolves like a bear tearing through a pack of curs. Russ, in his arrogance, couldn't deny such a challenge and felt confident that he could kill the First Found.

The clash of Daemon-Primarch and the First Found became the stuff of legend. Few could describe what happened through the dust and smoke that was kicked up from their melee. All that was seen was the last few moments of what became known as the Duel of Wolves. Horus had circled around Russ, though had taken his share of blows while Russ relied on his constitution as a daemon-primarch to weather the killing blows of his brother. Russ showed considerable resistance against the fabled _Talons of Horus_ , which are renowned as the bane of daemonkind. But it was Horus that ended the duel with a swing of _Worldbreaker_. The wound dealt by _Worldbreaker_ stunned Russ and gave Horus the time to close the distance and lift Russ above the battlefield for all to see… and mercilessly brought him down upon Horus' knee, crushing Leman Russ' spine, causing the Winter Wolf to let out a howl of pain that he had never ushered before. It was a sight that took the heart out of the Space Wolves.

The blow did more than simply ruin Leman Russ' spine though, somehow the shattering of Russ' spine coalesced with the shattering of the Wolf King's soul-spirit despite the power of daemonhood, sending the Sixth Primarch screaming into the depths of a coma. The Space Wolves howled in agony at the sight of their primarch defeated and discarded upon the Terran earth. Many around their gene-sire devolved into Wulfen, feral and mad at what they witnessed. As for Russ himself, he was dragged to safety by his shadow-wolves, while the Space Wolves raged and tore at each other. When the Traitor Legions began to flee following the death of Sanguinius, the VI were remarked at being one of the last to leave the battlefield. This is largely due to a desire to fight the Thousand Sons who now at last emerged from the Palace's centre to unleash their magicks upon the retreating traitors, and that so many of their jarls and priests had been killed, their primarch incapacitated, and many others becoming Wulfen that few were able to retreat in any sort of organised order.

And so the Vlka Fenryka were sent roaring from Terra in defeat, hounded by vengeful loyalists. After breaking through the combined fleet of the World Eaters, Word Bearers and Emperor's Children, the sons of Russ fled to Fenris, hoping that the magicks of their homeworld would aid their primogenitor and restore his soul, bringing him back from the coma and help him see reason again. Some doubted whether he would return as Russ' madness could be easily interpreted as a punishment for failing the Dark Gods, however any that were vocal on such opinions were quickly cut down by Bjorn the Fel-Handed, self-appointed master of the Space Wolves, at least while his primarch recovered.

* * *

Bjorn the Fel-Handed

Loyalty to their primarch is second nature to all Space Marines. The Space Wolves, however, took this above and beyond what is expected - something many believe that led to their fall from grace. The Space Wolves followed their lord as if he were an alpha and they the pack. None were more loyal than Bjorn the Fel-Handed. Bjorn's rise is an odd one as he seemingly rose to prominence on his father's whim, something which many questioned at the time and since. Though Bjorn proved himself on the killing fields of Prospero, where he lost his hand to the fire of a Thousand Son, many still looked down upon the young warrior, detesting the favoritism he had gained. While wounded, Bjorn hacked off his own burning limb out of fear of its corruption and soon earned the title of Fel-Handed. Bjorn followed Russ both into the warp and back into real-space where he grew strong with the powers of the Immaterium. It is said that out of all those Space Wolves that had witnessed Russ' defeat, only Bjorn was able to suppress and overcome the Wulfen genetic flaw.

Unlike many of his kin, Bjorn very rarely leaves Ymir for raiding, and very rarely leaves the daemon homeworld of the VI at all. Bjorn's days are now often spent standing guard over Russ as the comatose primarch drifts in the wolf-dreams, doing his best to interpret these dreams alongside a cabal of Rune Priests and Wolf Priests that try to coax their primogenitor out of the wolf dreams and return to his sons for the prophesised Wolftime that others call the Times of Ending. When Bjorn does appear in real-space, it is only for something of great importance to the revival of his gene-sire. As such, Bjorn will brook no interference from others in his quest, whether it be outsiders or his brothers within the VI. As a result many Space Marines, both Chaos and Imperial, have fallen to his warp-craft and combat skill. Worse still are the shadow-daemons, Freki and Geri, who often hunt alongside Bjorn as they sense his intentions and wish to see their alpha return to them at long last. The Thousand Sons long to kill Bjorn for his sins on Prospero, as do the Sons of Horus, but Bjorn has evaded all assassins, as his duty demands him alive. For Russ and the Wolftime.

* * *

 **Post-Heresy: Magnus' Vengeance**

As the Heresy cooled and the fires of the Scouring were stoked, Magnus the Red pursued the fleeing Space Wolves back to Fenris, hounding their fleets with his sons and allies. The Space Wolves, having suffered heavy losses during the Heresy and the Siege, were ill-prepared for the loyalist assault. The Thousand Sons, supported by the Iron Warrior Stor-Bezashk commanded by Warsmith Toramino and several Sons of Horus companies under Captain Tarik Torgaddon's command as well as scores of Imperial Army regiments, laid waste to the VI homeworld. Fenris, despite being a Legiones Astartes homeworld, had little in the way of defensive fortifications barring an extensive orbital weapons platform grid. Russ had believed that few would ever dare attack his homeworld and if any did the orbital defence grid would protect Mother Fenris and ravage any attacker in conjunction with Sixth Legion's mighty war-fleet with Fenris' natural defences making any invasion dangerously difficult. But the war-fleet of the VI was far less mighty than it once was, having suffered greatly since the Burning of Prospero and rarely saw reinforcement and replacement.

While Bjorn and the Legion's inner circle brought their father to the Fang in the hopes of reviving him there, the Imperials began to bombard vast swathes of the planet. It took days but all of Fenris became molten slag, all but the continent of Asaheim which housed the Rout's fortress-monastery. This was to receive the personal attention of the loyalists in direct mockery of how the VI burned Prospero to solely invade Tizca. The IV, XV, and XVI forces landed alongside their allied Army regiments, surrounded and besieged the Fang. Magnus oversaw the siege, his sons psychic powers working in conjunction with the Iron Warriors artillery to break through the outer layer of defences, allowing the loyalists to enter into the Fang proper, spearheaded by Khayon the Black, the Slayer of Wolves, renowned for his many victorious battles against the VI during the Heresy. The Space Wolves fought fanatically, they fought doggedly, and still they lost ground.

In the Fang's centre, the most powerful Rune Priests attempted to resurrect their primogenitor under Bjorn's and the Wolf Priests' supervision but days of incessant prayer to the Dark Gods and calling for the primarch's spirit to return failed miserably as Russ remained comatose and the VI continued to lose ground. Yet at their darkest most desperate hour their calls for aid were finally answered on the eve of defeat. The Ruinous Powers snatched all surviving Vlka Fenryka, including their warships in orbit, away from Fenris and brought them to the Eye of Terror, their new sanctuary and hell all in one. Magnus had attempted to stop the ritual but was unable, much to his frustration, but the destruction of the Sixth Legion's homeworld did much to ease the sorrow and rage he had felt since Prospero burned. Though Russ still lived, albeit barely, the Imperium had secured a great victory and had nearly exterminated the VI. Following the Battle of the Fang, Asaheim was bombarded, the land made inhabitable for millennia. The loyalists marked the star system as quarantined and moved on to punish traitors elsewhere.

The battered Space Wolves arrived to a world that was a dark reflection of Fenris: Ymir. It was the last time the Thirteen Great Companies were united. Now they battle amongst themselves as well as other traitors. Many of the Traitor Legions try to not associate with the Space Wolves, many seeing Russ in his current state as a sign of detestable shame for the Space Wolves and a weakness. To be raised by the Pantheon only to be left a husk of what you were is the state that Russ is trapped in and acts as a warning of the price of failure. That said, the Great Companies do go to great lengths and unite on occasion if under the banner of aiding their father but very little has been discovered to remedy their primarch's condition. Typically when Space Wolf warbands leave the Eye it is for settling ancient grudges against either the Thousand Sons or the Sons of Horus, or rather raiding far and wide for resources and slaves. And while they have caused little lasting damage upon the Imperium, there are rumours of VI shamans and cabal-witches seeing prophetic visions, visions of an oncoming Wolftime that will bathe the galaxy in blood…

 **Homeworld**

Logan Grimnar, the Old Wolf

Space Wolves respect one thing and one thing only: power. The savage creed of attaining power is what drives them. Power of brotherhood, strength and glory. To falter on any of these three creeds is to invite challenges from your fellows and to be torn asunder like any other weak-minded prey-creature. The leaders of the Space Wolves must remain honed and brutal to keep leading their fellow hunters - as to falter is to fail Russ and invite a challenger to come to the fore. Among them is one that is spoken in hushed whispers for fear that even saying his name might invoke him like some spirit of old: Logan Grimnar, the Old Wolf of Khorne.

Grimnar has been touched by Khorne's influence the moment he was torn from his family and brought into the ranks of the Legion. However, unlike fellow worshippers of Khorne within the Rout, Grimnar did not embrace the reckless savagery of the Blood God but rather the more tactical thinking of Khorne, though, of course, he is not lacking when it comes to close combat skills. This attitude has led him down the path to becoming a Lord of Chaos and has been blessed with the axe Morkai, which has the essence of a fallen Bloodthirster bound to it. The title of 'Old Wolf' came from a foul encounter with a cabal of Raven Guard Sorcerers who attempted to kill Grimnar with a spell to age him to dust. Grimnar, however, endured the spell due to Khorne's blessing but did not come out unscathed having been rapidly aged to that of an old man yet retained the vitality of Space Marines half his apparent age. Grimnar took the aging in his stride and continues to massacre the foes of the Legion in Russ' name and Khorne's glory.

* * *

Ymir, a world of warp-blighted frost and acidic oceans teeming with monstrous leviathans, is the Daemon World that the VI fled to after Magnus the Red burned Fenris in retaliation for the loss of his own home. Like many of Daemon Worlds of the Traitor Legions, Ymir is a dark reflection of Fenris, Russ' own memory of his home warped by the whims of the Dark Powers. While there was brute nobility on Fenris, there is only cruel savagery to be found on Ymir. Rampaging monsters and savage human tribes war on its frigid surface to survive while in great fortress-halls on mountainsides and within them too can strongholds of the Legion be found. It is there they nurse ancient grudges and petty spite with tankards of mjod mead, flavoured with blood of slaves and enemies. The greatest of these citadels is The Spire of the Wolf, built upon the largest mountain on Ymir. Thousand Sons seers have peered into the Eye and have seen the Spire rise impossibly high, defying physics, and the screams of the damned and lost ever reverberate from it alongside the snarling of wolves. It is here that Leman Russ lays in rest, trapped in the wolf-dream for over ten thousand years, a state that his sons long to free him from.

* * *

The Wulfen, the Beast-Marked

There have always been dark rumours whsipered about the Vlka Fenryka, even during the height of the Great Crusade. There have been whispers of their world and the true meaning behind their name, of inherent mutability and unrestrained savagery. The VI embraced their primarch's barbaric home, and for that they embraced the beast within. It is not an exaggeration that the Space Wolves are known for their hardiness even before the strength gifted to them by the Fell Gods; an inherent advantage of their gene-seed. But with that advantage came a flaw, an insidious one that haunts the haughty Space Wolves: the Wulfen Curse.

Also known as the Beast-Marked, the Wulfen are the Space Wolves' flaws revealed to their fullest. Savage man-wolves that tear and rend their foes with unrestrained abandon, their reputation is mixed among their own Legion. Many Wolf Lords use them as glorified attack dogs, chained in the bowels of their ships. Though others see the Wulfen as extension of Russ' will, and it has been noted that the number of Wulfen seems to fluctuate in tandem with fitful sleep of their Daemon Primarch. Whatever the Wulfen are it is a known fact among the Imperium and even other Chaos forces that if one should ever be unfortunate enough to face them, they should kill the Wulfen as quickly as possible, especially before they enter melee range. If they fail, their lives will almost certainly become forfeit

* * *

 **Organisation**

The sons of Russ are a Legion officially divided into Thirteen Great Companies, an organisation template hailing from before the Sanguinary Heresy, but in practice these Great Companies are heavily decentralised with each spawning dozens of warbands, sometimes more and sometimes less. Each Great Company is led by a Wolf Lord with the warbands led by Wolf Jarls. Like many of the Traitor Legions, they do not have a set power structure but are more a meritocracy and as such a Wolf Jarl can usurp his lord in a trial by combat - if he so desire to do so. However, Russ appeared to have chosen his sons well as only four of the Heresy-era Wolf Lords have actually been usurped and killed. The rest still remain in command - much to the Imperium's ire. The only Great Company that does not follow this is the Thirteenth, by far the smallest Great Company and made up of Russ' most trusted and loyal sons. The Thirteenth has not left Ymir since the Rout's arrival. They guard their gene-sire's comatose body within the Spire of the Wolf, eagerly awaiting the Wolf King's return.

The size of a warband changes dramatically from warband to warband due to many factors such as how often such warbands raid, the success and prowess of their jarl, and the skill with rune-reading which details what the gods desire and the fluctuating will of the primarch's soul-spirit. Some warbands prefer to keep away from open warfare that endlessly rages in the Eye, preferring to rule petty fiefdoms in the Eye, and even in Imperial space. Others battle incessantly and as such can be low on numbers before returning to Ymir for replenishment. Furthermore, it's worth noting the divide between the neophyte 'Blood Claws' and the Vlka Fenryka's fully-fledged Grey Hunters. Rivalry is fierce with the strong hating the weak and the weak wishing to pull down the strong. The bloodthirsty youth wishing to overcome their elder and more experienced brethren due to a barely constrained ambition and wish to prove themselves in the eyes of the primarch and the Pantheon. Still, like with many of the Traitor Legions, this strength and rivalry has kept only the strongest alive and strength is all that those within the Eye of Terror have left.

Within the Legion's inner circle, Rune Priests and Wolf Priests are held in high regard and have the freedom and influence to migrate between the warbands in the search of anything whether it be rare herbs or arcane rituals that could rouse Russ from his slumber. Few Wolf Lords and even fewer Wolf Jarls dare impede the Legion's shamans lest they rouse their primogenitor's disfavour upon his prophesised return and are permanently banished from Ymir if they do so, losing all the relative safety and resources it represents. This banishment has happened several times, but the most notable has been Beor Arjac Grimmaesson and his warband the Wolf Brothers. After a string of failed raids into the Imperium, the Wolf Brothers in their desperation imprisoned three Wolf Priests and a Rune Priest, sacrificing them to the Pantheon that saw Grimmaesson ascend to the rank of daemonhood. Now the Wolf Brothers fight their kinsmen more than the other Chaos Legions or even the Imperium.

* * *

Lukas, the Trickster

While many among the Space Wolves have pledged themselves to the Pantheon of Chaos, few place Tzeentch high in regard. A majority of the Vlka Fenryka see the Great Changer as the patron of witches; something which irks the Space Wolves as they see it as the fault of witches for their fall from the Emperor's grace. But one among the Space Wolves honours the Great Mutator in his audacious deeds and he is known among his brothers as Lukas the Trickster.

Lukas the Trickster came about his title in all its brutal honesty, he prides himself on his ability to trick and make fools of foes and allies alike. He honours his dark patron through subterfuge and damning trickery, and as such has made many enemies in the Eye of Terror. Lukas, however, continues to evade them all, occasionally even setting them against one and other. The only foe that seems to be Lukas' equal is the Dark Eldar Duke Sliscus who cut out Lukas' heart after a confrontation in which both Space Wolves and Dark Eldar clashed in real-space. Lukas has since had the missing heart replaced by a Dark Mechanicus weapon of horrid origin which upon Lukas' death would detonate and take an entire world screaming into the warp. For the Trickster intends to have the last laugh - even in death.

* * *

 **Combat Doctrine**

Facing the Space Wolves is akin to facing a pack of their namesake; feral, brutal and always looking for weakness. Space Wolves often engage in raids for slaves to keep their Legion healthy and strong as both mutation and death keeps the Space Wolves a constant unknown but most likely below their pre-Heresy strength. Such raids by the VI are often quick engagements to strike hard and take what they want before the defenders can strike back. Therefore they often forgo the heavy weapons of their specialised Long Fang brethren and the large but often slow monsters bred on Ymir. However when the Space Wolves ready for direct engagement, the monsters and weapons they bring to battle are terrifying and have broken a foe many a time. Monsters from a frozen age, insane mortal warriors, Rune Priests and their summoned daemons and all manner of daemon-engines fielded by the Long Fangs. Facing a full army of Space Wolves is like facing an avalanche. Made worse by the cunning of the Wolf Lords and several Wolf Jarls, and many can attest that an army of the Vlka Fenryka - however fragmented their Legion is - is something that can keep even the most well-decorated Imperial commander awake at night.

 **Beliefs**

 _"We fought and killed our own kin. Before the Betrayal was even a flicker of ambition in Sanguinius' heart, we had already killed our kin. The Emperor made us for that duty and yet still had the audacity to cast us out for it. Our fellow traitors howl out in anger at the Emperor's judgement but we had endured it long before them. This is why it shall be us that re-forge the Imperium for we do what has to be done. When the Wolftime comes, the galaxy will bleed by our claws and then thank us for it."_ \- Quote attributed to Bjorn the Fel-Handed.

* * *

Like all the traitors of the Eye, the Space Wolves venerate, despise and even fear the Dark Gods with equal measure. Like the White Scars, they praise the Ruinous Powers in the way of their lost home, through brutal sacrifices not unlike those backwater tribes of Ancient Terra are often common. Predatory beasts and slaves are taken from Ymir's frozen wastes and offered up to the Dark Gods in ceremonies led by the Rune Priests. Clearly the Space Wolves remain blind to their own hypocrisy, and how their beliefs dragged them from the Emperor's light.

While the Space Wolves worship all the Dark Gods they seem to hold a particular disdain to those that follow the path of Tzeentch, many Inquisitors believe that this is due to the fact that the Changer of Ways had marked the Thousand Sons before Magnus cast himself free. The Space Wolves' petty grudge towards the Fifteenth Legion is so strong that they would spite the Changer's followers for the isolated and random association the XV had with Tzeentch from days long before the Heresy.

 **Recruitment and Gene-seed**

The Rout's gene-seed have always suffered from mutations; something many Imperial scholars believe was a mark of their corruption that led to their fall. However, this flaw could be traced back to the days even before that of the Great Crusade. It seemed to Space Wolves were damned from their conception due to what have been called the Canis Helix. This causes a degradation in the flesh of the Space Wolves, slowly turning them into the beasts that they so venerate. Some would argue that this is a fitting end for the traitorous gene-line but despite this flaw they have endured the Long War. The Wolf Priests are on a constant quest to keep the Space Wolves numbers high while trying to end the curse of the Canis Helix. As such, only the strongest from the slave tribes of Ymir are chosen for the honour of ascending to the rank of Space Wolves and often go under gruelling trials to prove their worthiness. During their implantation process, they are often despatched to hunt Ymir's great beasts or Wulfen that have escaped the pens of Space Wolf strongholds. Those that prove their killing capabilities are only then gifted the progenoid glands of the Wolf King to rise to the ranks of the Blood Claws.

* * *

Ragnar Blackmane, the Young Wolf

Since the Red Cyclops' Vengeance, the savage tribes of Fenris followed their damned masters into the maws of the Warp. The Space Wolves, for their part, allowed many of the tribes of mortals to join them as they knew future generations of Space Marines would be harvested from the tribes. The mortal Fenrisians made their home on Ymir and became even more deadly and skilled, the only ways to survive on Ymir. And from these savages came one of the most dangerous Astartes of Russ' gene-line: Ragnar Blackmane.

Exceptionally young for someone of his rank, Ragnar inspires leadership through a predator's brutality and canniness. Ragnar earned his mark through bloody determination and now many rivals within the Legion deem him a threat. The Inquisition alongside the Grey Knights and the most powerful Thousand Son Librarians that aid them have determined that Ragnar intends to rebuild and unite the fragmented Space Wolves for when Russ awakens from his dream. Armed with a daemonic blade tempered in the blood-ichor of daemon prince Sha'kolarth, who fell to Ragnar after a duel that could have lasted decades or seconds - for time is merely an illusion in the Warp, he now leads his warband into the many wars raging across the Eye and real-space. The Young Wolf merely waits for the coming of the Wolftime, preparing for the saga he would create during the End Times.

* * *

 **Battle-Cry**

The battle-cry bellows of the Space Wolves vary from warband to warband, each of these splinter packs may follow one of the Chaos Gods or all of them. As such most of their cries venerate their chosen patron. Though one howl that does unify the Space Wolves are the howls of, "For the Wolftime! For Russ!" or "The end of times soon approaches!"

When facing the Thousand Sons cries of, "You shall share Prospero's grave!" and "Back to Hel, witches!" can be heard. Though when facing the Sons of Horus only bitter howls can be heard, clashing with the righteous bellows of the First Warmaster's bloodline.

* * *

 _Bjorn the Fel-Handed gazed down at his father, his craggy brow furrowed in contemplation as he watched the slumbering form of Russ writhe in torment. How could his father suffer such a fate? Had he not served the Emperor with loyalty and purpose? And instead that lying corpse-god cast him aside like a tool that had served its purpose. Pining on other, weaker sons like that damned cyclops!_

 _How many years had Bjorn stood guard over his father's comatose body? How many times had he courted servants of the Dark Powers claiming they had the solution for his father's malady only to be executed by his hand for lying? Too long, he mused, far too long, and he turned to look about the chamber where intricate runes were carved into the stone by Rune Priests to protect their sire's body and to encourage his soul-spirit to return. Though Bjorn was self-confined to Ymir, only departing for real-space when something that may aid his quest arose, his gaze in the Warp was long. He heard the whispers on the aetheric wind as well as the prophetic mutterings of Raven Guard's sorcerers. The tides were changing and it might be for the last time. The Imperium was finally crumbling under the weight of its hypocrisy, the False Emperor's armies stretched to the breaking point and there simply were no reserves left to bolster the multitude of faltering theatres. Other things were shown to Bjorn, things that heralded such horrors and entailed dangerous possibilities, but he believed them to be falsehoods but only time would tell the truth of the matter. Nevertheless, it was undoubtable that the Last Battle was on the horizon…_

 _Out of the corner of his eye, something drew Bjorn's attention. At first he had thought it was the two Wolf Priests debating what new concoction would rouse their sire and what must be gathered for it. But no, it wasn't them, nor the pack of warriors from the Thirteenth. He gazed down upon his primarch's form. Russ remained immobile, his honey-blonde hair matted with sweat and skin emitting soft warp-light. No change then, but he could've sworn… no, it was simply a trick his brain had played on him, fuelled by millennia of hope. All things within the warp were a lie. But still as he took up position once more, Bjorn the Fel-Handed found himself wondering. Did his father's eyelids flutter? Even for a second?_

* * *

A/N: For the Wolftime! So that is the Space Wolves Index done and I hope you all enjoyed, big thanks to Tanner151, who helps fine-tune each of these, go check out his stuff its awesome. I hope you all enjoyed this latest installment, please feel free to review and have a good day.


	7. Index Astartes: Imperial Fists

**Imperial Fists: The Pestilence Horde**

 _Among_ _all of the Legiones Astartes, the Imperial Fists were counted among the most steadfast and undaunted. They were a Legion that carried the Emperor's banner high into the heart of any pitched battlefield. They were known as one of the most resolute Legions, as unassailable as a mountain. Ironically, it was this very nature that led to their fall, that and the brutality that came to pass in Rogal Dorn's wake as he obsessed over gaining the Emperor's approval. Ironic that such an unyielding Legion fell into Nurgle's embrace. Their durability became their downfall and the Imperial Fists are spreaders of contagion, their hardy resistance now a delight for Nurglite daemons. Gone are the bastion of stalwartness, all that is left now are the bloated harbingers of death._

* * *

 **Origins**

It was an age ago when the Emperor first arose on Terra, where He allowed Mankind to bask in His light and free them from the shackles of the Age of Strife. With His arrival and leadership, Mankind rose out of the chaos of Old Night. As Terra became unified by the Lightning Lord's armies, emboldened with sciences and archeotech from the Dark Age of Technology, the next step in His plan for a united Mankind could continue. To do so the Emperor knew that humanity must have warriors worthy of triumphing over all the horrors of the dark; the xenos, corrupt tyrants, and whatever else lurked in the deep void. And so, as the Emperor founded the organisations and institutions to carry out His will, He constructed demigods of war from His own flesh: The Primarchs. Unfortunately, one of the Emperor's fears came to pass as the insidious forces of the warp conspired.

The Dark Gods of the Immaterium - or the Primordial Annihilator - longed to have Mankind as their slaves; fueled by the emotions of the species. They desired to rule both the Immaterium and Materium, using humanity, to act as their vassals for eternity. The Emperor's designs for Mankind would quash such things and so they conspired a vile scheme. The Ruinous Powers stole the Primarchs from the Emperor, and cast these demigods out into the stars. Each of the Emperor's sons was discarded upon worlds populated with humans. Whether this was a coincidence or an accident is something to be debated - as it would not be out of character for the Dark Powers for it to be either. Still, many of the Emperor's sons rose to the status of kings but none more so than Rogal Dorn, who ruled over a cluster of worlds.

It was the world of Inwit that the Seventh Primarch fell to; the world was frozen tundra not unlike the Death World of Fenris. However, unlike Fenris, the peoples of Inwit had mastered - or rediscovered - leftover technology from the first great empire of Man. And so with the technology they had managed to reconnect with neighbouring worlds and thus established their own small empire in memory of what once came before. In spite of these advances, the world's culture did not evolve, instead keeping to its savage ways of hunting the ice-born beasts native to the frigid planet. Perhaps they feared they would grow soft and succumb to the terrors that ruled the universe, or perhaps they simply had no desire to grow and prosper past what had already been achieved. Whatever the case, it was to Inwit that the Seventh Son landed upon.

Like many of his brothers, the Seventh Primarch was found by lords of the world. In his case, it was the House of Dorn, the leading tribal kings of Inwit and its fellow few worlds. Other than that, the infancy of the Primarch is little more speculation and mystery. Like all the Primarchs his strengths and martial prowess had him marked out at a young age, and it was him that the patriarch of House Dorn chose as his successor. An inevitability given the nature of the Primarchs, after all they were forged to be kings. And so it came to pass that the Inwit Cluster became ruled by Rogal of the House of Dorn, who steadfastly swore to rule the Inwit Cluster with discipline, law, and fairness. Dorn's rule marked a time of great prosperity for the Inwit Cluster; any piratical xenos, such as the mysterious Eldar or raging Ork were crushed without mercy. It is ironic that the fall of the Inwit Cluster came not from an outside force but from within, an early sign that the Fell Gods were manipulating events and corrupting the Emperor's sons.

In the cold tundra wastes of Inwit, something stirred in the world's depths. Whatever it was it had a cold, cruel intelligence and had been awoken by Dorn's own progress as industrialization and population expansion had begun in the Cluster's capital world. It was found by one of the wild dogs that inhabited Inwit's surface and it infected the poor creature, driving it half-mad with pain. It was guided to the nearest of Inwit's cities and released a pathogen that spread rapidly and tens of thousands die within hours. At the time of this infection Dorn simply believed that this creature was some form of ancient xenos; something that had crashed onto Inwit long ago and found its way to the surface. The truth is far more damning; it was a Neverborn of Nurgle. Having fallen out of the Plague God's favour, the creature had been left trapped under the ice of Inwit as punishment.

Now free of its frozen prison the daemon began to wreak havoc among Inwit, with the intention of spreading a plague to the whole of the Inwit Cluster, in order to get regain its master's approval. As for Dorn himself, he had to watch as the monster infected his people and his world, and in anger he declared that Inwit must be purged of any and all that were infected: if they showed even the barest sign of infection they must die. It would be an oath Dorn would regret when his own adoptive grandfather fell under the plague.

* * *

 _Dorn watched on in agony as his grandfather writhed on his bed, sweat pouring from his brow. Around him men and women tried their best to comfort and heal him - after all he was royalty of Inwit. Dorn could do nothing, however, and simply stood by and watched as all that he had worked for was slowly falling to ruin. Frustration burned at him, building a rage as dark as the void as he watched the old man pant and scream as boils erupted over his skin. One of the healers began to rub healing oils over his grandfather's chest._

 _Only for it to split like open like some great maw and tear off the healer's arms._

 _Screams filled the bedroom as Dorn let out a roar of anger and charged the thing that was once his grandfather. Tearing a sword from a nearby guard, Dorn bellowed out a war-cry as he pierced the thing to its bed, pinned like some bug. Black blood boiled out of its shattered mouth, and its eyes were bright with mockery. Dorn wiped away the tears that threatened to stain his eyes._

 _"Taaakkkee caaarrreee, little Rogal," the thing rasped, its face twisting around the blade as it was not weighed down by flesh and bone. What hell spat this thing out, Dorn could only wonder. Not matter he thought as he torn the blade free and began to fight the monstrosity of flesh and decay. If he had to burn Inwit to save his cluster, then so be it._

 _Dorn, however, had failed to note the smallest of nicks that the thing had managed to give him on his wrist. Nor did he notice the black poison that began to seep into his bloodstream, fooling his physiology and lying dormant within._

* * *

After burning House Dorn's ancestral home to stop the xenos infection, subjugating hundreds of millions to a fiery death by orbital bombardment, something changed in Dorn. Once ruled by logic, justice, unflinching determination had now become a dark and furious anger, filled with callousness towards others as he refused to be laid low by something which he saw as lesser. Those that served Dorn noted the change after his grandfather's death. The Primarch boarded personal battleship _the Phalanx_ and proceeded to lay low his homeworld with fire. As for the daemon it is unknown what befell it as to this day. No Neverborn of Nurgle that has assailed the Imperium since the Heresy has claimed credit. Given its status as an outcast perhaps this is on purpose as to do so would draw the ire of its foetid god.

* * *

The Phalanx

An ancient piece of technology that is believed to have been forged during the Dark Age, _the Phalanx_ is an ancient ship found by Dorn in the Inwit System asteroid belt. The size of the great ship is like that of a small moon, and in the days of the Great Crusade its shining light was seen as the light of the Imperium piercing the darkness of space. Dorn prided himself on _the Phalanx_ as would many Imperial Fists. Privately Dorn viewed the great ship as the last remnant of Inwit after he was forced to destroy his homeworld.

The great ship acted as inspiration for many of Dorn's most devastating weapons, the most well-known being the Sky Fortress, infamously deployed during the Siege of Terra. Since the days of the Heresy, the Phalanx resided in the warp; a great plague ship that has merged with the World of Rot and Plague. It is said that _the Phalanx_ looks as a tumor upon the Rot World, clinging to the daemon-world like a some twisted limpet underneath a rotting beast. Many Imperials fear the killing might of the Phalanx - equal to that of _the Planet-Killer_ or _Bane of Honour_ \- and given the rumours of the Warp that it is being repaired at long last, it seems the great plague ship will become the scourge of stars again.

* * *

After the tragedy of Inwit, many other worlds began to turn against Dorn - whose heart had grown cold and unforgiving. These rebellions did little but enrage the emperor of the Cluster and he soon began to viciously crush the secessionists without mercy. He began to view his people as having grown soft, and that if this was their response to his reign then perhaps they needed a firmer hand to ensure that a tragedy such as what happened to his homeworld could never happen again. And so began Dorn's brutal rule over the Inwit Cluster, silencing any and all dissent.

And while the Cluster did indeed flourish despite the 'xenos' plague that led to Inwit's destruction, the peoples of the Cluster lived in constant fear of Dorn's iron fist. The Primarch was blind to this suffering, viewing the brutality of his actions as something that was needed to bring peace and prosperity to his empire. And while a hesitant peace reigned there was an undercurrent of dread during the demigod's rule. It was a fear that if one stepped out of line then the punishment would outweigh the crime. Dorn simple viewed it as a demand of what was necessary; to him the people were safe and for that they should be thankful, regardless that their rights and freedoms had to be sequestered to make it so..

Then came a great fleet from the stars, far greater than anything the Inwit Cluster had to offer, and many of the empire's peoples secretly hoped that this fleet would be their deliverance from Dorn - and in a sense they were right. The fleet announced it came in peace and wished to meet with the demigod-emperor of the Cluster and asked after the world in which the empire was so named. Dorn, at first, took this for mockery and heavily rebuked the voice upon the fleet. Only to be met by compassion in turn.

* * *

 _"You dare mock me, 'what has become of Inwit?'. If you knew as much as you claimed then you will know it was taken: by an ancient horror from the stars!" raged Dorn, jaw tightly clenched. "You have the audacity to use it as mockery against me. Give me one reason I should not turn the guns of the Phalanx onto your fleet."_

 _The ship-crew around Dorn cast nervous looks to one and other, doubting that even with the killing prowess of the Phalanx that they could bring down such a mighty fleet. Luckily for them the fleet would never be brought to bear and the voice replied. The voice that spilled forth from the vox was soothing and calm and many of the mortals present felt their muscles relax and their minds ease. Even the bitter and angry Dorn felt a sense of calm. One he had not felt in many years._

 _"You have done well, My son, to bring such peace to so many worlds. That is something which even many of your brothers cannot boast," the voice explained, as soothing as the now-gone ice seas of his homeworld. "I apologise for what I said. I wronged you, Dorn, but I can make this right. Join Me and your brothers. And together we can ensure that no world will have to suffer like Inwit did. We will bring safety and security to Mankind. What say you?"_

 _Dorn contemplated for a moment, debating the sincerity of the words and feeling a sense of… longing, was it? He was not alone anymore, and he had someone who not only accepted what he had to do but also understood. And understanding was the greatest gift he could have received._

 _"Very well… father," he said slowly. "I will join you."_

* * *

And so, Rogal of the House of Dorn met his gene-father and learned of all the Emperor had done since His sons had been stolen from Him. The Inwit Cluster was brought into the Imperium as a whole, and a kinder stability returned to the Cluster. It was as if the presence of the Emperor and his soldiers led to the discharge of tension in the air, gaining the thanks and loyalty of much of the Cluster's citizenry. As for Dorn himself he detailed the Emperor with stories of his rule. And the Emperor listened on with an attentive smile.

As for the Primarch's gene-line, the origin of the Imperial Fists comes from the days of the Throneworld. Even after the unification of Terra by the Emperor, there were still many obstacles and threats to face the young Imperium in those early days of the Great Crusade. In particular, the great Ork empires scattered throughout the galaxy, akin to a green infestation that had to be destroyed root and stem if humanity was to rule unopposed. The Seventh Legion were at the forefront of the vanguards that crushed those Ork empires nearest to the Throneworld. Other pockets of resistance, whether it be xenos or human, were likewise diligently crushed by the Seventh Legion. It was for this unrelenting, unstoppable force that they were known as the Imperial Fists – a name that seemed apt for such a Legion. Dorn's response to his sons' combat records was a simple, pleased nod and a few brief words of acceptance. Clearly the Legion had managed to impress, somewhat at least. With that Dorn and his sons began their conquests amongst the stars.

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"Necessity breeds contempt, my sons. Learn this bitter lesson, here and now. Inwit taught me such things, as I had to watch my home tear itself to shreds before I accepted what had to be done for the good of all. How many were lost by such actions, by my hesitancy in swift and total action? A necessity in the end, but my people grew unruly. They cried 'Dorn, you were our saviour but now our destroyer?' How like the sheep they were. My sons, we shall be necessity's Fists, the wolves that guard the flock but also ready to cleanse it of weak-blood. We shall drive ourselves deep into the heart of our foes, and crush them under our march. We shall leave worlds ruined in our wake for necessity demands it. And if we gain contempt, then we shall burden it. For the Emperor's Glory!"_ \- Speech attributed to Rogal Dorn, Lord of the Imperial Fists, upon meeting his assembled sons for the first time.

* * *

The Imperium records show that the pre-Primarch Imperial Fists were a Legion of honour and duty, while the years under Dorn's command morphed the once beloved Legion into a war machine of brutal discipline and unrivaled savagery. Countless empires and xenos species were crushed under the Imperial Fists' onslaught - something which worried many. While the Imperial Fists were a proud Legion, the sheer amount of aspirants from the Inwwt Cluster marked a spiritual change within the Legion. Many of the Aspirants from the Inwit Cluster were similar to their demigod-emperor in spirit. Dour and broken and this reflected in their attitudes.

Many Legions often refused to serve alongside the Imperial Fists as their dour attitude and tactics put many off, particularly the Emperor's Children and Word Bearers. The sons of Dorn marched unflinchingly into battle, absorbing blows, and if one Astartes fell then he was left to die, for weakness was not to be tolerated and must be consistently expunged so the VII did not falter in its mission. This militaristic attitude led to the death of many mortal soldiers that served alongside the Imperial Fists and the more honour bound Legions such as the World Eaters or Iron Warriors grew deeply concerned by this. Many within the Legiones Astartes had their champions challenging the Imperial Fists as it soon became easy to mock them for their lackluster attitude. Something which irked First Captain Sigismund who settled any and all debates in duels that led to many of his cousins leaving humbled and battered, this only increased the arrogance of the Imperial Fists. That was until his clash with the Prince of Crows.

* * *

 _Sigismund marched into the small arena, basking in the baying roars of his brothers. From the opposite side of the arena stood Sevatar, standing still with a hint of a smile though his dark eyes assessed Sigismund as he approached. The bastard looked as calm as ever, he thought. Sigismund had heard some Night Lords mocking his sire, calling him a trench digger without a shred of remorse. Insults had to be paid in blood but Sevatar intervened, accepting the duel on behalf of the entire Night Lords Legion. That surprised Sigismund but he would not back down. None mocked his sire, and by crushing Sevatar, he would remind the Night Lords to hold their tongue in the presence of the Imperial Fists for next time they might lose it._

 _Sigismund drew his blade and Sevatar revved up his chainglaive. The Prince of Crows titled his head, a look of boredom on his face. "Till whoever's arse hits the ground first, you humourless sack of meat?"_

 _Sigismund heard laughs at that from several Nostraman onlookers, but only responded with an irritated grunt before advancing on the VIII First Captain. The pair quickly became a storm of steel, the clash ringing off the arena halls. The cheers from the surrounding Astartes soon fell into quiet as the two didn't seem to stop. The duel went from a disagreement to a clash of almost mythic quality. Sigismund found himself forcing to use every trick he knew to keep pace with Sevatar - and the Night Lord was forced to do likewise. Sigismund had humbled the likes of Raldoron and Khârn, and yet he looked to have finally met his match. How exciting._

 _The duel came to a dull end as suddenly Sigismund cracked the hilt of his blade across Sevatar's face. He stumbled as blood leaked from his maw until suddenly the Night Lord spat the blood at Sigismund whilst advancing. As Sigismund stumbled in confusion blinded by the blood in his eyes, and pressing the advantage Sevatar brought their heads together and Sigismund found himself on the ground. Sigismund looked up to see the hand of Sevatar offered._

 _"You and your brothers need to learn to take a joke," explained Sevatar, his tone neutral. "Let this lesson from me pass onto your brothers, Sigismund. Don't be so inflexible."_

 _"You cheated," Sigismund said, frustration and amusement both in his voice._

 _Sevatar shrugged and Sigismund chuckled. "You cheated," he repeated but nevertheless took Sevatar's hand. "Consider my lesson learned."_

 _A ghost of smile appeared on Sevatar's face though it looked more a grimace. "Good. It's true what they say, you know. You do bruise easy."_

* * *

Inter-Legion relationships aside, Dorn's own relationship with his progeny was something that was that considered dangerously tense at worst and awkward at best. It was no lie that Dorn seemed to dote upon those Imperial Fists that were Cluster-born. Terran-born were considered with contempt by Dorn despite being veterans of the Great Crusade. This, coupled with Dorn's own inability to listen to his sons, made a volatile mixture. Oddly enough only the Terran-born First Captain Sigismund seemed to have Dorn's ear. It was not uncommon for vicious punishments to occur to those that spoke out against or critiqued their Primarch - in particular in regards to the refusal to deploy psyker legionnaires, something which was spawned from Dorn's own belief that the creature that ruined Inwit was a psy-creature not unlike the monsters of Magnus' home.

That said the Imperial Fists strove further to gain the approval of Dorn, becoming ever more brutal and unrelenting in the face of adversity. Conquest became savage campaigns, and soon rumours of foes casting down weapons only to be met without mercy soon began to spread among the Expeditionary Fleets, much to approval of Ferrus Manus and Vulkan. As for the other Primarchs, those relationships were mixed. The Seventh Primarch seemed to despise Magnus the Red due to his psyker ability or the Crimson King's well-known arrogance; most likely a combination of both. Lorgar and Angron, he likewise despised; Lorgar for being preening preacher who projected an air of condescension on the unfaithful; and Angron due to the fact that Dorn saw him little more than an unshackled beast.

But Dorn's most tense relationships seemed to be that of Konrad Curze and Perturabo. Curze and Dorn seemed to dislike one another the moment they met, something which was made worse by Sevatar and Sigismund's duel, despite the two First Captains developing a bond. Curze saw it as a lesson, but Dorn took it as a personal offence and ordered Curze to hand Sevatar to him. The Lord of Shadows was recorded to have laughed off such an order and the two almost came to blows if not for Horus who intervened to prevent bloodshed.

As for Perturabo that is a far longer and darker affair. Once, long ago in the Crusade's more glorious years, many thought that the Lord of Iron and the Fist of the Imperium would have become steadfast allies; both had suffered similar tragedies, losing loved ones to things beyond their control and they prided themselves on their ability to construct things of both great wonder and ability. However, Perturabo saw first-hand what Dorn did, he only tended to craft artifacts of destruction and cared little for what was left in his wake. Dorn built only to create more death and destruction, uncaring to lay the foundation of Imperial stability and prosperity that the Lord of Iron so painstakingly sought, something Perturabo found sickening. Dorn, for his part, viewed the Lord of Iron as weak for his desire for rebuilding worlds that he destroyed. Dorn viewed it as a task for lesser beings, particularly the Administratum, to rebuild the worlds left in ruins by his wake.

While the pair disliked each other, it did not become fully hostile until the Pacification of Schravaan. This was a joint Imperial invasion against a xenos race known as the Badoon, and with it saw four Legions march to war against them. The xenos were soundly crushed under the weight of ceramite and bolter fire, but many Imperial Fists died due to their Legion's strategies. This, coupled with Dorn's brilliant but overly complicated siege machines, led to a sense of disdain from Perturabo, which came to head when Horus himself proclaimed Perturabo the master of siege-craft. Dorn responded with anger and rage at this slight and it took both the efforts of Fulgrim and his own Imperial Fist officers to rein him in from attacking Horus and Perturabo. After that, tensions between Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors grew dangerous with Sigismund killing many in honour-bound duels, the lesson of Sevatar cast aside.

It is telling that come the Triumph of Ullanor, a time to celebrate Imperial dominance and supremacy, Perturabo chose to ignore Rogal Dorn and his Imperial Fists despite them being the closest Legion on the parade grounds - something which earned Dorn's everlasting ire, which was only compounded further when the Emperor chose Perturabo to be His Praetorian of Terra. Dorn's anger towards the Imperium as a whole grew greater due to the issues of the Council of Nikaea. The Seventh Primarch did not trust the psykers of the Thousand Sons nor did he really trust his own. As such Dorn was among the most vocal and adamant of detractors against Magnus the Red and his sons, going so far as to believe that the warp-touched among the XV should be culled due to their wanton usage of psychic abilities- something which greatly embarrassed Mortarion, whom had genuine fears of the Librarians. But alas the hateful roars of Russ, Dorn and Manus ensured that the Emperor would be all but swayed to defend the Fifteenth Legion against their detractors, feeling their usefulness and loyalty far outweighed any potential issues their psychic usage could cause.

Dorn fell into despair after Ullanor and Nikaea, and this gave Sanguinius a ripe opportunity. Dorn and Sanguinius were amicable enough towards one another, respecting each other accomplishments, but given the Angel Fallen's ascendance in the eyes of the Primordial Annihilator he could clearly see that Dorn and the Imperial Fists were slowly but surely be taken into the arms of Chaos, yet knew they needed a greater push to become fully corrupted in time for the civil war to come. So Sanguinius talked to his brother and told him of what he, Manus and the Lion had concluded: that the Emperor was dragging Mankind into the dark and would lead to its extinction. Dorn became greatly disturbed by this revelation but his rage directed at his father far outweighed any loyalty he once held for Him. Easing the Imperial Fist Primarch's corruption was Nurgle's claim on Dorn's soul. The Lord of Decay's touch was so blatant and deep-rooted that Sanguinius had to do little to bring his brother to Chaos' fell light and was enlightened with powers of the warp and drove his sons into falling fully to Nurgle's glory.

* * *

 _Dorn could tell that Sanguinius had changed. He looked less like something out a hero's myth and now something from a dark fairy tale. A half-man warped by something older than even Father. He was still beautiful and angelic but not in the way that a marble bust was, now it was like staring unto a storm, terrifying in how majestic it was. The Angel Fallen smiled at Dorn as Dorn took in all that he had been told. All this work and labour, it was worth nothing at all in the end. Father was a liar and, worse, one that doted on weakness, turning a blind eye to those that truly serve him._

 _Dorn looked at Sanguinius. "Ferrus and the Lion stand with you?"_

 _"And a few others but first we must ensure that our Legions are free of any loyalist elements," came the cool response of a leader forged. "But first you must set upon the path of Nurgle."_

 _The cut on Dorn's wrist, long scarred and unable to fully heal, began to ache and itch greatly, causing Dorn to grit his teeth in frustration. "How?"_

 _"Say the words."_

 _And they came to him, whispered in his ear by a god. Dorn repeated them aloud and in doing so damned an entire Legion._

* * *

 **The Heresy: The Rot Seeps In**

 _"So many times the histories write the inevitability of betrayal yet the Imperium did not, in its youthful arrogance and mighty power, that betrayal could come to them on a grand scale. But the power of hindsight is blinding indeed. We look to the likes of Dorn, Corax and Vulkan, and acknowledge the darkness in them. But we all have a darkness inside… a cankerous poison that's eats away at our values, our oaths, and our dreams. I know future generations shall cry, 'How did you not see the brutal ones grow cold?' But that is the talk of fools. Betrayal could not cut one so deep if it was something so easily foreseen."_ \- From the personal biography of Perturabo, Lord of the Fourth Legion.

* * *

The opening phase of the Heresy was to remove those more loyal to the Emperor than their Primarchs from among the Traitor Legions but to do so would require a smokescreen. Sanguinius was provided that by the rebellion of Isstvan III, a world brought to compliance by the Raven Guard decades earlier which decided to turn back to its old ways. Sanguinius, with Horus' approval, brought with him three other Legions. Sanguinius claimed that it would prove the might of the Imperium and help strengthen ties between the assembled Legions that had fought little side by side the past several years. It was a diplomatic coup that Horus approved of as he had his own plans to strengthen ties between the Legiones Astartes, particularly the Ultramarines and Word Bearers. However, prior to leaving for the Isstvan System, Dorn indulged his unholy patron and manipulated the planting of a Nurglite daemon upon Olympia; both to keep Perturabo occupied and simply to wound the Lord of Iron's pride.

The four Traitor Primarchs decided that the correct course was to pretend that the world would need to be brought back into the Imperial fold via a mass assault with elements from all four Legions - again a sign of unity. This first wave would secure landing zones and move in to behead the rebel leadership while the bulk of the four Legions would act as a strategic reserve. It was told to the soon to be embarked legionnaires that the planet's rebellion would be crushed within a day: a sign of the Imperium's might.

Instead what happened next was a betrayal most foul indeed. The many sons of the four Primarchs sent to the planet's surface were those that would have defied their gene-fathers out of a greater loyalty to the Imperium as a whole. As such these possible loyalists needed to be purged before the greater crusade against the Emperor could even begin. So when the first wave began to fight the rebels of Isstvan, the traitors made their first move. Sanguinius unleashed Life-Eater Virus bombs upon the rebels and loyalists alike. The horrifying bio-weapon ate through ceramite and flesh with ease, dismantling on a cellular level bone and fat with a nightmarish ease. After the Virus became inert, changing into toxic flammable fumes, orders were made to fire a lance beam planet-side to further destroy what few rebels and loyalists remained alive at that point. Eight billion died in a moment and it is said that Sanguinius smiled as the world burned. Reveling in what it felt like to be a god as he watched billions writhe and die.

Yet there was some who had survived the cleansing. And furthermore, some of those captains aboard voidships that did not get sent down to the planet for one reason or another used this opportunity to warn their brothers of the impending threat. Soon a fight in the void began as the traitors boarded and tried to secure those ships that had warned the loyalists on Isstvan III moments before the bombs fell. The message was sent and the ships began a void war above the skies of Isstvan III, much to the rage of Sanguinius who lamented that a simple operation had spiraled so out of control. It is believed the Angel Fallen wanted to continue the assault from the ships but the actions of the blood hungry Ferrus Manus forced him to do otherwise. Manus, who had fallen under the Blood God's sway, decided that the loyalists had survived too much already and that it would simply be easier to kill them blade to blade, regardless of the cost, for Khorne cared not from where the blood flowed, only that it did.

* * *

 _"We are betrayed!"_ \- A famous quote often recorded alongside the Isstvan Atrocity, the original speaker has since faded into anonymity.

* * *

Sanguinius raged at the Blood Gorgon's decision, cursing the violent sway of the Taker of Skulls had over the Medusan Primarch. Rather than risk open dissension amongst the Traitor Legions so soon, the Angel Fallen ordered Dorn, the Lion, and half of his Blood Angels to go planet-side and to eradicate the surviving remnants. Dorn and his Legion quickly reinforced the Iron Hands - much to the Tenth Primarch's anger. Meanwhile, in the skies above Isstvan III, Throne-loyal ships fought to try and evacuate as many of those that stayed true to the Emperor to safety but they were torn to pieces as the traitors grossly outnumbered them and surrounded the loyalist warships like wolves stalking their prey. Only one ship broke free of this blockade to reach the relative safety of a Mandeville point, the Sisypheum, and with it carried the words of this dark betrayal.

On Isstvan III itself the impossible happened: brother was killing brother. This was all antithetical to what an Astartes represented. They were never intended to combat and butcher one another for this was not part of the brotherhood the Emperor had forged them for. But here in the ruins of a world brought to death in moments the Astartes fought and died killing their own kin. All the loyalist legionnaires could do was fight and take as many traitors with them to the grave as they could, knowing every traitor that died on that hellish world would mean one less traitor Space Marine the Loyalist Legions would not have to face. While the traitors bellowed to crimson-stained skies, crying in jubilance to the Dark Gods. It is said that in these moments the Imperial Fists and the Iron Hands were fully taken by their gods and indeed residual remnants of the Life-Eater Virus warped the VII. Many became bloated, gifts from the Lord of Decay and Ruin, as they were corrupted into what would become known as Plague Marines

* * *

Plague Marines, the Hosts of Death

Walking monuments to Nurgle, the Plague Marines are those that have fallen further than their brothers, having given themselves to decay and now no longer capable of even feeling pain. Their power armour has become slick with decay and filth, and their own intestines have swollen to monstrous proportions. Plague Marines absorb damage with a terrifying ease and are near impossible to put down due to this warp-cursed hardiness given to them from their dark patron god. The first of the Plague Marines came from the Imperial Fists on the fields of Isstvan III where the remnants of the Life-Eater Virus coupled with Dorn's allegiance to Nurgle led to the Chaos God using Isstvan as an opportunity to warp many Imperial Fists into forms more pleasing to him.

Though many Plague Marines are prevalent among the Imperial Fists, it is not unknown for others to become one so blessed by Nurgle. All one must do is surrender fully to Nurgle's will, swear fealty to the God of Pestilence, and to take the 'gifts' that the Plague God offers you. Given the divide among a majority of the Imperial Fists and Sigismund's Black Templars, certain warbands will often force those that desire to become Plague Marines first to swear loyalty to either: Dorn or Sigismund, depending on which said warband is affiliated with. The Chaos God, however, cares very little of such divides and in truth many who do swear loyalty will often ignore such oaths as in the end the whim of the Grandfather matters most of all.

* * *

The sacrifices of those loyal elements was not in vain as they prevented the traitors from moving onward with their treachery and their sacrifice bought more time for the those that escaped. They died like true servants of the Emperor and spat in the face of the inevitable charge and to this day a monument to these heroes can be found on the Throneworld where many travel to find spiritual peace from a galaxy ever at war. These faultless heroes faced insurmountable odds, slowed the Arch-Betrayer's plans, as well as buy time for news to reach Terra.

Made aware of his beloved brother's treachery, Warmaster Horus Lupercal ordered seven Legions to crush the traitors at Isstvan, hoping that the overwhelming numbers and firepower would crush the rebellion before it spread to nearby worlds. The traitors, fresh from their hard fought victory on Isstvan III, relocated to the star system's fifth world and it was there that they fortified and built formidable defensive works under the guidance of Manus and Dorn. Here they could weather the blows of the incoming loyalists, daring hem to attack such a prepared stronghold, though of course they still had the advantage of traitors among the Retribution Armada.

During the ensuing Dropsite Massacre where the Alpha Legion, Death Guard and Emperor's Children were betrayed by the other four Legions of the Retribution Armada who gave their allegiance to Sanguinius, the Seventh Primarch fought in the Imperial Fists' vanguard. He searched for worthy opponents to slay, killing hundreds of legionnaires with a warp-touched rust-covered _Storm's Teeth_ that dripped with poisonous disease-ridden liquids of potent lethality. As the battle raged on, and the loyalist defences refused to buckle, Dorn sought out Mortarion. Upon locating the Death Lord, he saw Jaghatai Khan;s corpse at the Barbaran's feet, slain only moments before. Some wonder why Dorn chose to pursue Mortarion himself instead of Fulgrim or Alpharius as the two brothers had a relationship built upon indifference during the Great Crusade. Perhaps Dorn simply wished to kill him due to Mortarion's refusal to vocally demean Magnus at Nikaea and supporting the Emperor's Edict, or perhaps a darker hand was guiding him that fateful day.

Whatever the case Dorn took Mortarion's head but this changed little for the Massacre's progress. The loyalists fought back hard, and with the Death Guard rallying around First Captain Calas Typhon, the loyalists simply dug in. Compare that to the White Scars who largely fell into disarray with the death of their Primarch barring a handful of brotherhoods that rallied to their khans. Dorn had hoped Mortarion's death would have taken the heart out of the loyalists but it had the opposite effect, much to his frustration. The Unyielding One pressed onwards, while the leaderless horde of White Scars was finally rallied by Lion El'Jonson and Ferrus Manus. But the loyalists escaped breaking through the traitor blockade in orbit thanks to the efforts of Typhon. Dorn was said to simply sneer as the ruins of his own ships crashed into Isstvan, torn apart by the killing power of _the Terminus Est_.

With the Massacre concluded, the traitors celebrated Sanguinius' victory, his followers knowing that while they had broken three Loyalist Legions upon the anvil of betrayal and scattered the survivors, the response from the Throneworld would remain defiant. Furthermore, the mettle of Astartes had been proven and the loyalists showed that they would not break under the traitors - dark pacts or otherwise. Still, with the Massacre done now the Heresy could begin in earnest and the slow warpath to the Throneworld began.

Despite departing Isstvan with having secured to major victories there, the Traitor Legions were notoriously disunited, despite Sanguinius' best efforts. It took all the Angel Fallen's charisma and manipulation for the Traitor Legions to operate on a somewhat united front, yet the traitors quickly departed to further their own goals and rampant desires, only fighting alongside each other on occasion. Sanguinius ordered Guilliman to Ultramar to tie down the World Eaters and Word Bearers, his main objectives to secure the Five Hundred Worlds' vast industry so as to supply the Arch-Traitor's campaigns towards Sol and to prevent the two Loyal Legions from reaching Terra. The Battle-King of Macragge readily complied, being one of the more obedient Primarchs to follow Sanguinius into heresy, but in doing so lost the Angel Fallen forsook the bulk of the XIII for most of the Heresy. The Dark Angels and their gene-sire journeyed to the Webway; Russ ventured into the Eye of Terror with his Thirteenth Great Company while the other twelve fought for the Angel Fallen across the Imperium. The White Scars guarded the Arch-Traitor's flanks, though some, led by Shiban Khan, fought beside the Blood Angels and their Primarch for the entirety of the Sanguinary Heresy.

The Iron Hands were somewhat manageable, they cared only for the slaughter now so it took little for Sanguinius to prompt them to battle. All it took were some honeyed words, and the odd claim that Fulgrim may be on the surface of said target world to get Ferrus and his blood-hungry sons to despoil for the Angel Fallen. The Salamanders were capricious as their gene-father, though many noted the something of a fear in Vulkan over what he truly was, though the Lord of Drakes hid this weakness well, it was the Raven Guard that seemed the most unruly for Sanguinius to control, for the favored of the Changer began to place his own ambitions are more important then those of his dark liege - as a slave of Tzeentch is want to do. As for the Lord of the VII, Dorn set his sons against many Iron Warrior garrisoned worlds to prove who the more powerful Legion was and who had deserved the Emperor's favour in years past.

With the endurance of their patron god's favoured chosen, the Imperial Fists tore through many Iron Warrior Fortress Worlds, Dorn used this as an opportunity to test many dangerous weapons he had devised to overcome the Fourth Legion's many strongholds. Great drills and countless amounts of artillery cannons churned and tore through the defences of these loyalist Fortress Worlds, and Dorn delighted in tearing down his hated brother's work. That was until the Night Lords made their move. The retribution of Konrad Curze's sons was something savage indeed, to the point that even the traitors balked.

Mortal units and soldiers would simply disappear with only their strung carcasses left as warning. Whole companies of Space Marines would be lost in the dark only to be found come morning light, flayed out and some even still alive through it all. Dorn laughed out the cowardly tactics of his brother but his sons were not as blasé. This coupled with many Fortress Worlds taking longer to fall due to exemplary fortitude and a refusal to submit that saw to a tremendous amount of losses for the Imperial Fists - to the point that even the ever-loyal First Captain Sigismund was beginning to have his doubts about his gene-father's methods.

Nurgle's hold on the Imperial Fists tightened as Dorn fell quickly into his arms; Dorn believed that his newfound god's gift of greater fortitude would help strengthen his own. As for Sanguinius he encouraged not just Dorn but Sigismund, as Sanguinius had visions of the First Captain becoming a harbinger of plague second only to his father. Sigismund grew disillusioned with his Primarch as he watched him waste the VII away upon Iron Warrior bastion walls. This, coupled with the powers of the warp that were rapidly making themselves known, led Sigismund to slowly hate his father for his petty grudge that saw so many of his sons perish needlessly.

However, after nearly a decade of warfare, Guilliman returned once more to march alongside Sanuinius, and the Daemon Primarch Leman Russ led the Space Wolves to victory at Yarant, while the other Traitor Legions finally gathered for the final push into the Imperium's heartland. In a moment of sensible clarity, Dorn quickly obeyed the order to ignore all former grudges for the path to Terra was now open. Dorn joined with Sanguinius and the other traitors at Beta-Garmong, seeing a new chance to humble his brother, and what better stage to reap his revenge then in the greatest battle of the Heresy. But the Primarch was so obsessed by his pursuit of revenge that he did not see the anger being nurtured in Sigismund's heart

 **The Siege of Terra: Death From Above**

 _"The Fallen Angels laid siege to the Throneworld. Their very presence brought ruin to the cradle of humanity, and the crimson angels brought with them their traitorous kin. The fists of ruin brought with them machines of decay and death, clashing against the stalwart wardens. Fire and pain is all that they would receive, nothing more and nothing less."_ \- Extract taken from The Legacy of the Heresy

* * *

The forces of Sanguinius, both Astartes and Neverborn, bore down on Terra with relish and for Dorn this was the perfect opportunity to prove himself over Perturabo. To lay low all of Perturabo's defences and prove that the Imperial Fists had been superior over the Iron Warriors all along. For such a task he unveiled all of the monstrous creations he had constructed over the course of the Heresy. The most dangerous of them being the great Sky Fortress, a killing battle station made in the shape of the Phalanx. It tore through the Outer Palace defences, allowing the Iron Hands and Imperial Fists to surge through the loyalist lines.

But despite what Dorn had thought about his brother, Perturabo had indeed planned for whatever Dorn could have construed, so brought the Legio Mortis, still recovering from the hard fought victory on Mars, to act as hunter-killers to Dorn's machines. While suffering losses of their own, the power of the battle-hardened Legio was enough to bring down the Sky Fortress, and the great machine among the traitor line, killing thousands of legionnaires and millions of Traitor Army and Dark Mechanicum. Dorn roared with anger as entire companies of Ultramarines and Imperial Fists were consumed by its atomic fiery death-throes.

Soon after came the order from Sanguinius to deliver the deathblow against the Emperor and to storm the Sanctum Imperialis. Dorn joined his brothers as they stormed the palace, casting aside any foolish enough to stand against them with ease. After all one Primarch could tear apart an army, while four blessed by the dark powers could kill a god. Only Perturabo waited for them at the Palace gates and he unloaded the full might of his Logos armour. Bolter fire tore through the traitors - and even Manus was wounded. But Sanguinius ignored the Praetorian, leaving him to face Dorn as a reward for service to the Angel Fallen.

So on the steps of the Eternity Gate, brother fought brother to finish grudges of old. Dorn found himself angered by how Perturabo fought to keep out of the reach of his rust-clad chainsword, though Dorn endured the heavy blows that Perturabo laid against him. Nurgle's grace saved him a dozen times over as the blows delivered by Perturabo would have broken a Baneblade but in the end it was Dorn who triumphed in the melee. He threw Perturabo to the earth, ready to kill him only for the traitors to break.

Sanguinius was dead, killed by Emperor and reinforcements had arrived ready to claim the heads of traitors. Dorn fled in anger, swearing that he would unmake the designs of his brother and that there would be revenge for all that was between them. And so the Imperial Fists fled Terra, heading towards the Eye of Terror, ensuring destruction was left in their wake as they went to make hell their home.

 **Post-Heresy: The Shattering**

 _"My father is a fool. He longs for the pains of the past and denies the gifts of the present. He does not embrace Chaos to its fullest and for it he must be cast down. I thought to do this at the Shattering but Dorn's stubbornness is like that of our god - I can say that much about him. But I learned much at the Iron Cage, I learned that the Primarchs are childish godlings that care little beyond their own designs. I lament that so many of us refuse to see that truth and only a sparse few understand Chaos' true glory. Remember this, my crusaders of decay, and we shall ascend to the Manse of Nurgle. As the gardeners speak to the sentinels, they speak to Unclean Ones and so the Word is passed to us."_ \- Quote attributed to the Book of Rot, penned by Sigismund of the Destroyer Hive

* * *

As the Great Scouring raged on across the Imperium, Rogal Dorn brewed on old grudges and refused to cast them aside. He knew that he must ascend to Nurgle's favour as the Lion had for Slaanesh for the Great Game but he still longed to settle the grudge of bad blood between him and Perturabo. As a result the entirety of the Seventh Legion made way to Cadia, Perturabo's newest Fortress World, intended to bottle the traitors in real-space for them to be dealt with by the vengeful Imperials. Sigismund spoke out against such a decision, declaring that they should find another path from real-space to the Eye, that the wars soon to erupt in the Great Storm were an ample chance for Nurgle to rise in the endless conflict between the gods. But Dorn ignored the advice of his First Captain and the other Stone Council, causing hatred and bitterness to fester in Sigismund's hearts.

Dorn wanted to gain favour in the eyes of the Grandfather and knew what would be the best way to do so was to sacrifice the vaunted gene-seed of his arch-rival's sons. Seventy times seven more would be needed - for seven was the vaunted number of the Plague Lord. While Dorn told his sons of his plans to ascend to daemonhood and for the Plague Father to rise above the other three Chaos Gods, only Sigismund seemed dissatisfied with this plan, seeing it as a prime opportunity for Perturabo to bleed the Imperial Fists. The Heresy had weakened them even if, unlike the Iron Hands, they had managed to keep the Legion's hierarchy and structure.

And so, in the last year of the Scouring the Imperial Fists made their move and with the aid of their Neverborn allies they tore through Cadia's orbital defences as the Unyielding One sought to prove the futility of the Iron Cages. The Imperial Fists landed in their tens of thousands, eager to kill the Iron Warriors and their Primarch. Dorn knew Perturabo had set himself up as bait on Cadia, but the chance to kill the Lord of Iron could not ignored. As thousands of traitor legionnaires died beneath the walls and guns of the Aquila Fortress, slowly breaching the Fortress at great cost only to be isolated in kill-boxes, cross-fires, det-armed bunkers and more. Sigismund pleaded with his father to abandon the assault, claiming that with the Iron Warrior fleet defeated in orbit, the VII could easily enter the Eye's relative safety. Dorn harshly rebuked him and it is considered here when Sigismund decided to turn against his father.

Regardless, Dorn sent the Imperial Fists to attack en mass and to tear down the fortress of the Iron Warriors and to harvest their gene-seed needed for his daemonic ascension. Irritatingly, the four hundred and ninety gene-seed needed was incredibly hard to find; both due to canniness of the Iron Warriors who avoided full on confrontation when their fortress was breached and the actions of treacherous underlings prompted by Sigismund - though Dorn did not know it was him. Still, the gene-seed was harvested and the Imperial Fists weathered the many traps and tricks of Iron Warriors.

Dorn led his sons onward and finally the tide began to turn within the Aquila Fortress of Cadia, Dorn feeling Nurgle's gaze on him. Each gene-seed taken and corrupted with virulent diseases was another legacy of Perturabo ruined and a new chance of rebirth in the great cycle. Swelling with unholy power and on the brink of daemonhood, Dorn emerged into the Fortress' centre to defeat Perturabo once and for all… but found only a trap. Perturabo bathed the Imperial Fists in bolter fire, scything through hundreds of them with ease, and once the guns clacked empty the Emperor's Praetorian emerged to duel Dorn.

As the two demigods fought, unable to fully gain the upper hand over the other, Sigismund made his move and as the Imperial Fists were separated across the Aquila Fortress in a hundred firefights, he ordered a full retreat in the name of their Primarch. Dorn once again - like on the steps of Terra - was forced to flee as his sons mistakenly assumed their gene-sire had ordered the withdrawal. Though he did gain daemonhood, it was a half-victory at best as the VII had been thoroughly mauled by the First Cadian War and Perturabo yet lived. Not only that but Dorn's position as Primarch and undisputed master of the Imperial Fists was challenged for the first time since he had assumed command.

Sigismund had gained many followers as a result of the First Cadian War, which many saw as their primogenitor's blunder, and thus they proclaimed themselves the true 'Templars' of Nurgle's will. Ironically, like the Iron Hands, a schism occurred between the Imperial Fists, made worse by Dorn claiming Sigismund was a usurper despite the First Captain clearly being favoured by the Plague God. However, unlike the Iron Hands, this did not descend into bitter civil war but instead Dorn simply banished those among the Imperial Fists that swore allegiance to Sigismund. It was odd that such an unforgiving Primarch would be so lenient in the face of betrayal but many predict it was because the VII had suffered such grievous losses during the Heresy and Scouring that permanent divisions was more preferred than bleeding his Legion more.

While a plague among the Imperium, the VII fixates on the Iron Warriors, preferring to engage them in battle than all others. Currently a horde of Imperial Fist warbands led by Lysander, the Fist of Decay, lays siege to Hydra Cordatus alongside their Dark Mechanicus allies. Worst still comes rumours claiming that Sigismund is making his way to Hydra Cordatus with his Black Templars; either to thwart the efforts of the Dorn-loyal Lysander or to aid and claim his own share of the gene-seed.

* * *

Sigismund of the Destroyer Hive

Heroes were not uncommon during the Great Crusade, many of them are hailed as saints in the modern Imperium; Lucius of the Emperor's Children, Argel Tal of the Word Bearers, Khârn of the World Eaters. All these transhuman warriors were raised during the Great Crusade, back during the height of Mankind's new empire, as these brave Astartes fought for humanity's future. But with the onslaught of the Heresy many of these heroes fell, twisted by their whims and desires - something they valued over the rise of humanity. One of the worst and greatest was Sigismund the Templar of the Destroyer Hive, the Herald of Nurgle. Sigismund once was the greatest of these heroes, the First Captain of the Imperial Fists, second only to Rogal Dorn in terms of authority within the Seventh Legion and arguably the best swordsman of the Legiones Astartes.

Sigismund most certainly had the skill to back his authority. And it was Sigismund that often carried the banner of the Imperial Fists into the heart of his Legion's foes, surrounded by his Templars. He was an avid duellist that dominated the best of what the other Legions had to offer, with only Sevatar of the Night Lords being one of the few ever to defeat him - with a head-butt no less. It is sorrowful that this once great and loyal Space Marine fell so low when Nurgle's influence poisoned the Imperial Fists. It was the Terran Templar that the Plague God chose to carry his greatest gift: the Destroyer Hive.

The Destroyer Hive, an unnatural extension of the Plague Lord himself, was a hive of the first daemon flies to have ever spawned in reality, one that had fused with Sigismund permanently; granting unnatural resistance and prodigious strength alongside the aid of these daemonic flies in battle. While dangerous, Sigismund's own actions ensured that his Legion remains divided into the 41st Millennium, the ten thousand year schism still fresh in the Herald's mind. His blatant attempt to undermine Dorn has left the Imperial Fists torn between his Black Templars and those who remain loyal to Rogal Dorn. Both sides compete for Nurgle's affection and like a doting grandfather, Nurgle delights in it all and as for Sigismund, he continues to be a plight on the Imperium, eager to overthrow his father and reap the Garden of Nurgle.

* * *

 **Homeworld**

The Eye of Terror is home to all manner of monsters and madman. The Imperial Fists have made their home in the Great Storm, a host of worlds that act as strongholds for the Imperial Fists' many warbands – an ironic parody of the Iron Cages of Perturabo's sons. The psykers of the Imperium have managed to pierce the gaze of the warp with the aid of the Word Bearers and Thousand Sons and many have seen these plague-ridden, disease-infested fortress worlds. However, at the center of this empire of rot is a shadow of Inwit known as the Rot World. The Rot World was once an Eldar paradise world turned into a sickening tribute to Inwit by the whims of Rogal Dorn. Now it is a frostbitten world, with great rotting trees dotted across the Daemon World, hosts to all manner of parasites and daemons. Once the Imperial Fists made this their home, the Tzeentch-aligned Raven Guard sought to conquer it and defeat their patron god's chosen.

Led by the Daemon Primarch Corvus Corax, the XIX attacked the Rot World, bypassing many of its protective fortress worlds by means unknown. This conflict became known as the War of the Silent Raven, one of many internecine wars between the Chaos forces in the Legion Wars. The war dragged on for years, Raven Guard sorcery against Imperial Fist resilience. The VII fortifications defied the XIX assaults, both their large-scale feints and more subtle approaches. In the end, the Lord of Ravens fought the Lord of Fists and the two banished the other to their respective patron's realms for a century each. Since that time, none others have been so bold as to attack the Rot World directly, learning that it was best to avoid it at all costs.

The Rot World has all manner of daemon and foul beasts cavorting across the planet's surface; dancing to the tune of Grandfather Nurgle. Neverborn are abundant in the murky ice-swamps of the Rot World, often playing cruelties on the many mortal tribes from which the VII draws recruits and serfs from; though such ministrations often feature bestowing new diseases onto the local tribes. The constant death of the Rot World's mortal humans allows the Imperial Fists to find new recruits that have proven their resilience and fortitude for the Plague Legion and add a constant aura of death on the world. After all, death and rebirth is all part of Nurgle's circle. Neverborn often use these tribes as test subjects and sacrifices to bring forth the stronger sons of Nurgle. The Imperial Fists will often release prisoners taken from raids upon the world to live with delight suffering as the tribes and beasts hunt them through the marshes - like back in the days of Inwit.

Given the constant rot and decay of Nurgle's touch, very few Imperial Fist strongholds actually endure the corrosive nature of the Rot World for any considerable length of time. The durability of the fortresses seems linked with their warlord's favour with their god, the less favour the quicker their fortress succumbs and collapses and must be rebuilt but the more favour the longer the fortress stands on the foul frostlands. The Imperial Fists view this as a challenge from their dark patron and strongholds of varying degrees of success are endlessly built, to see if they can outlast Nurgle's blessing. The only genuine success of permanence is that of _the Phalanx_ , Dorn's goliath of a flagship and the de facto fortress-monastery of the VII. An awe-inspiring warship that, despite now currently being a part of Rot World, could easily split off from the Daemon World and return to the void's great expanse if the Lord of the Seventh Legion so chose.

 **Organisation**

In truth, out of all the Traitor Legions the Imperial Fists are the only ones that claim to have changed little from their Great Crusade hierarchy. Of course, inter-Legion rivalry is not unfounded and all aspire to make the Grandfather proud, however there is a certain twisted sense of brotherhood among the Imperial Fists. While the Shattering did indeed cause a certain divide that does not mean it is uncommon for Black Templars to fight alongside the Imperial Fists. More often this is seen as a twisted game of trying to gain Nurgle's attention first.

At the top of the Imperial Fists undisputed Rogal Dorn, the Daemon Primarch now serves the whims of Nurgle and due to partaking in the Great Game of Chaos this often keeps the Primarch out of the day-to-day affairs of the VII. Following that are the Astartes who had become Daemon Princes since the Heresy, who are often seen as demigods second only to the Primarch. But due to the Great Game the Imperial Fists are all too aware that they cannot afford to rely on their daemon-father too much, and as a result many captains and warlords have risen to command and power in the wake of Dorn's ascension. That said, when the Primarch calls his sons to war, only those of Sigismund's get are liable not to answer.

 **Combat Doctrine**

The Imperial Fists more-or-less follows the tried-and-true strategies mastered during the days of the Great Crusade. They march into the fire of their foes and due to the enhancements of Nurgle they weather it with ease. In fact the Imperial Fists welcome battle wounds as they often lead to all manner of open wounds and sores due to the odd healing factor the Imperial Fists have gained. As they march forward the Imperial Fists' own bodies often act as bio-weapons against their foes, disease and viral pathogens spilling forth, something which brings joy to the repugnant hordes.

All manner of the Lost and Damned can be found fighting alongside the Imperial Fists, as they often dote on their 'little cousins'. To the Imperial Fists, those mortals are worth their affection for embracing the Grandfather's love and more often than not many Imperial Fists can trace their own heritage to these cults that follow the Imperial Fists - after all what better sign of affection is to fully take them into the ranks of Imperial Fists. That said many of these mortal followers that fight alongside their putrid masters often fall to either the enemy fire or simply unable to withstand the noxious nature of their master's plagues.

Those that fall often arise again as poxwalkers, pseudo-daemons infected by plagues and arisen to sow anarchy and terror-driven confusion among enemy lines. These creatures often bound ahead of the attacking Imperial Fists, spreading panic so that the legionnaires can crush the disorganised line with ease. After the enemy has fallen, the Imperial Fists will often construct fortresses and make them more pleasing to their dark god, adorned with disease-ridden corpses and other foul displays. Rotting shrines and rust-rimmed barracks are constructed as the Imperial Fists dare the rest of the planet's forces to attack and to be broken upon their rotting strongholds. This stratagem continues until the entire world has been taken by the Imperial Fists or they have been forced off-world. If the legionnaires are forced off-world they will often leave hidden plague-bombs and diseases out of spite, a trait that has seen entire worlds bathed in fire to cleanse them of Chaos' taint. A high price for victory indeed.

* * *

Lysander, Fist of Decay

Lysander is a bane upon both the legacy of the Iron Warriors and the Imperium as a whole. This particular Chaos Lord of Nurgle has enjoyed patronage from both his daemon-father and rotting deity. His past is something of a mystery but Inquisitorial followers have pieced together some form of history for the Fist of Decay. Lysander is believed to have been born seven centuries ago as a citizen of one of the Iron Cages. As with many of these worlds, it attracted the attention of the Imperial Fists. During a savage raid, Lysander was one of many taken - his own family slain.

There in the ice-swamps of the Rot World, Lysander was taken into the warband of Thrugrot Gruel, his own body warped and wracked by all manner of warp-plagues until the young boy that was Lysander died and he became an Imperial Fist in all its horrid glory. All that was left in him was a loyalty to Nurgle and Dorn alongside a burning hatred of the Iron Warriors that failed him and his family. Lysander rose to further prominence after taking control of Gruel's warband when the warlord had been slain in battle by the legendary Warsmith Shon'tu - this taking place about two centuries after Lysander's induction into the Seventh Legion.

In violent retribution and in a manner not unlike Dorn's own infection of Olympia, Lysander allowed himself to be captured while ingesting a daemon-plague. Shon'tu, despite the advice of his own men, took Lysander captive in the hope of extracting information as to what were Dorn's plans. An imprisoned Lysander then released the daemon-plague which saw the world of Malodrax becoming infected in its entire, turning a great many of its populace into Plague Zombies. Shon'tu and his Iron Warriors were overwhelmed but the world was burned in the fires of Exterminatus on Shon'tu's orders before the infection could take hold - sparing many an agonising half-death with a quick final one. As for Lysander, he survived and ascended the Legion's hierarchy and rose quickly in the Primarch's inner circle, earning an ancient power fist that the Primarch once used in the days of the Great Crusade. Now, Lysander acts as a herald of decay, his fist a sign of his daemon-father's patronage. Currently, he has turned his gaze unto Hydra Cordatus, eager to claim the gene-seed there and reportedly enjoying clashing his warband with the garrison of Warsmith Honsou.

* * *

 **Beliefs**

 _"We are the Grandfather's fists; his reapers and gardeners._

 _"We carry out his bounty in the mortal world, while in the Garden he delights at our endless toil. Let our constant and inflexible brethren believe that they are safe in their kingdom of lies. We shall spread Nurgle's joy to the entire galaxy. I know my errant son and his vaunted 'crusaders' think themselves Nurgle's pride and joy. But they blind themselves as much as they claim I have blinded myself._

 _"If it takes me a thousand years or even more, I will cultivate and grow and spread. I feel the tides of the warp turn and churn and with it I know I will get my revenge upon the Praetorian; that iron-cold thug. And I will make his world my own as is my due._

 _Until then my sons, do as the Grandfather commands. And soon we will be made whole again._ " - _The Litany of Decay_ , attributed to the Traitor Primarch Rogal Dorn.

* * *

During the Heresy, the Imperial Fists fell fully to Nurgle - even to the extent that they spread plagues to the loyalist world of Olympia out of spite. They praise Nurgle by many titles but the one that is screamed out the most is Grandfather. It seems that the Imperial Fists honestly believe that Nurgle is their grand-sire and that he had more of a part to play in their forging then the Emperor - the self-delusion of traitors. Some warbands, like the Black Templars, have been known to play this up to mock the loyalists but overall the Legion seems to truly believe this. And given the impact Nurgle had on the life of Rogal Dorn and the Imperial Fists as a whole it is not an entirely unfounded belief.

The Imperial Fists have fully given themselves to the Plague God and view their servitude to him as a sacred duty. And they legitimately believe that those untouched by the plagues are weak and need the plagues to give them strength. On the battlefield this creed is spread through bolter and blade, through extreme violence and the corpses that they leave in their wake. Given the rivalry of the Eye, the Imperial Fists despise the Raven Guard, as they serve the Changer. For their part, the Raven Guard often look down upon their putrid kin, something which irks the Imperial Fists greatly - especially given their long history of disdain from their fellow Legions. The War of the Silent Raven is one of many examples of warfare between the two. As for the other Legions, the Imperial Fists are often willing of join forces to spread Nurgle's rot and there are even rumours that the Blood Raven warband and Imperial Fists are currently working together in a scheme to undermine the Sons of Horus, as while Revuel Arvida may follow the Changer, the Blood Raven warband as a whole features traitors who follow all the gods and so the Imperial Fists will turn a blind eye to the Blood Raven's leader. For Nurgle's ever eternal glory, of course.

 **Recruitment and Geneseed**

As mentioned earlier many Imperial Fist Aspirants are taken from mortal tribes that live upon the Rot World or the children of the Lost and Damned that fight alongside the Imperial Fists in their strikes upon the Imperium. Aspirants are often taken into the Phalanx upon the Rot World and there are placed under the care of the Imperial Fists Apothecaries - though some are taken from the Iron Cage Fortress Worlds raided by the Imperial Fists. The wheat is often separated from the chaff through putting Aspirants under various infectious diseases and heinous conditions - often made with the aid of Neverborn. Those that survive the ungodly contagions are warped in mind and body, the turning to a true disciple of Nurgle's work. Some Aspirants even claim that when wracked with death-seizures, they gain a small glimmer into the Manse of Nurgle, seeing him doing his work. Such Aspirants find inspiration in their spiritual journey, some deciding to stay among Dorn while others may go to forge their own path.

Gene-seed is a more desperate issue for the Imperial Fists as while they endure their god's blessings, the gene-seed does not. The miasma of Rot World often causes the gene-seed stocks to rot and decay, that said the Imperial Fists have found a way around such issues through often taking gene-seed from other Legions, mostly the stock of the Iron Warriors, and merged together to form functioning progenoid glands. That gene-seed is often kept in vaults of the Phalanx, guarded by Dorn's most loyal sons. An apt paranoia as Sigismund has attempted to take the gene-seed from the Phalanx to replenish his Black Templars, another one of his many crimes against Dorn. Something Dorn is unable to hold him accountable for due to the Grandfather's favorable attention, despite the efforts of loyal Imperial Fists to claim his skull for Dorn and Nurgle.

 **Battle-Cry**

The battle-cry of the Imperial Fists when marching to spread their patron god's gifts is often a gurgle of: _"Primarch-progenitor and loving Grandfather, we spread the rot for your glory!"_ or _"The Rot will seep and bones mulch!"_ Others may follow the example of Sigismund and simply praise Nurgle, viewing Rogal Dorn as a failure to the Plague God. Those followers of Sigismund often cry: _"For him, Bearer of the Destroyer Hive!"_

When facing their fierce rivals, the Iron Warriors, many Imperial Fists will simply let out mocking laughter - prompting fierce anger from the taciturn Iron Warriors. Either that or: _"Olympia will feel our touch again!"_ or _"The Rot will claim you in the end, cousins!"_

* * *

 _The clocks had aligned, the time was now. How long since those golden days had he ached to return to His crippled father's empire? He had heard stories from his sons, and the echoes of those souls within the warp. He heard how it had become weaker than the days when he walked as a mere Primarch. But now, now they were on the precipice. He could feel the turbulence of the Sea of Souls. Whsipers upon aetheric winds spoke of prophecy, and muttered beginnings and hissed endings. He had once cost the Grandfather his place of dominance in the Great Game but now was the time for redemption, and to take His father's empire from its inept unblessed surrounding and morph it into a true garden of believers._

 _Aboard his flagship, the Daemon Primarch sat, observing the readouts and tasting the foetid air. Now was the time. A mere thought pulsed from the fell bloated demigod of weeping sores and rusted armour. With a wheezing gasp of a dying corpse, the Phalanx's engines burned alight, searing away the icy corruption that clung to its sides. It took hours for it to loosen from its berth but at last it rose into the air, breaking away from the Rot World that it had so long nestled on. Like a scab being picked clean, the Rot World wept pus at its loss, drowning millions of mortals that lived in the warship's shadow._

 _Not even the Neverborn were immune the tide of yellow death, barring those that could fly. The Daemon World would endure, for the Grandfather would make sure of it. But the divinations were true, now was the time for the Corpse-Emperor's spawn to return to real-space correct old wrongs. With the Plaguefather's love, he had gathered the Imperial Fists as Legion for the first time in millennia, and counted among that horde was bitter Sigismund who promised his Black Templars. With such a force amassed, who could stand in their way? The answer was none could and the galaxy would weep in tormented joy at the age to come._

 _Rogal Dorn looked out the viewport and let out a crooked smile. The Plague Crusade had now begun._

* * *

AN: Hello all and thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the latest installment of the Sanguinary Heresy. Nurgle has always been my favorite out of the Chaos Gods so I hope I did him justice in his corruption of the Imperial Fists. As for why I chose the Fists, it seemed to just work. Furthermore, I'd like to once again say thank you to Tanner151 who is a wonderful beta.

Next up is the Night Lords, so back to the loyalists it seems! Please remember to review and give me your thoughts as it always helps and I hope you all have a wonderful day!


	8. Index Astartes: Night Lords

**Night Lords: Heralds of the Darkest Sorrow**

 _The Night Lords have always combined the twin pillars of justice and cruelty into one, pushing the ideals to the extreme in the pursuit of enforcing the Pax Imperialis. Despite their undisputed loyalty, it is something that worries their fellow Space Marines and even the High Lords themselves. Konrad Curze's legacy is one of pain and despair; torn between saving the innocent and punishing the monstrous. At his best the Night Haunter was a crusader for the innocent and at his worst a monster drenched in blood that even traitors balked at. The Night Lords follow their gene-sire's example, punishing the xenos and traitor alike with such measures that make allies quake but let it be known: the Night Lords would never take the life of a loyal Imperial citizen. That said, there is an old Terran saying that applies far too well to the nature of Night Lords, entailing the fear of gazing into the Abyss and what might be staring back..._

* * *

 **Origins**

It is a discussion of great interest among the Imperium's scholars and clergy in how the Primarchs were forged; both in body and personality. When Chaos cast them to the void in hopes of halting the Emperor's great plan was there a design to which worlds they were cast or were it simply left to the whims of fate? The likes of Angron, Leman Russ and the Lion are often used to prove the point that indeed the homes of the Primarchs made them both monsters and saviours whose deeds would echo for millennia. But there is one among them that disproves that. Konrad Curze: The Terror, the Saviour and the Martyr. The Eighth Son was forged by his homeworld but in turn it was forged by him; made both greater and darker by his crusade in the shadows. And its darkness is carried in all his sons - with fatal consequences.

The Old Night was Mankind's nightmare given form. The fear of this great, galactic-spanning empire to fall under its own weight and drag an entire species to ruin was humanity's unsaid fear. A fear that came true and nearly dragged humanity into the dark, but humanity's stubbornness has long been their greatest strength and their ability to spit defiance in the face of inevitability is a facet of this. Despite this, worlds suffered under the Old Night and suffered badly. Great leaders rose on some and preserved a civilisation. Others fell to warlords who ruled with an iron fist, darkness dwelling in their fear. Nostramo was the rare exception of having been both.

Nostramo was a world where Mankind's vices ran rampant as metaphorical darkness flooded the night-shrouded planet. The sun of Nostramo was pitiful and constantly eclipsed by its moon Tenebor. Corruption was thick in the air as the constant industry of the world added to its ruinous facade; smog choked the life out of millions who dwelled there. The civilians of Nostramo slaved away in mines owned by noble houses and crime lords who grew rich and powerful off the labour of the masses. Crime was rampant as both factions fought wars for dominance.

It seemed that it was the Dark Gods' whims that the gene-capsule bearing the Romanii numeral VIII was cast upon a world made of the cesspool of the worse of man. His pod crashed through the buildings of Nostramo Quintus - the greatest city on the damned world - burying deep through the metal and ferrocrete. The boy emerged from the shadows of his ruined life-capsule and looked upon a world of blatant corruption and endless suffering of innocents. Primal urges drove the Primarch as he began to prowl the streets of the city, observing the murders and crime that plagued the alleyways. The Primarch once recalled to his remembrancer of the painful headache he had that day, describing one of the worst visions that haunted him.

* * *

 _The pain was a constant companion, the shadows were maddening. That's all the god-child felt as he stalked the streets of this world. His vision was clouded by his own blood, an animal snarl the only thing keeping the few citizens out late from approaching - after all, street rats were hardly a rare sight on Nostramo. The shadows were the worse than the pain. Pain was something he could overcome, even master, but the overbearing shadows promised madness. They revealed things to him, things that meant little now but he knew were of grave importance. A corpse sat on a throne, an angel of darkness leading a horde of damned. A figure was following him in the shadows of the corner of his eyes… one with a dripping hooked blade. The god-child not know the figure but felt it follow him as if it were death incarnate._

 _It was a beast, a monster, a haunter of the night who led flaying monsters… and it looked like him for it was him. Hands clutched at his skull as the vision thrummed in agony as he felt that his head would explode. The pain reached a crescendo, and then a voice cut into the visions, parting the shadow veil with their words._

 _"A-re y-ou al-right?" A deep voice asked, as a shadow approached Konrad._

 _Emerging from the madness of his own psyche, he began to let loose an animal snarl as a response but the snarl faded to a gasp on his bloodless lips as darkness took him._

* * *

The Primarch, in the throes of his visions, passed out from the pain. Something which could have been a death sentence on Nostramo turned into his saving grace as he was found by Janos, one of the few government officials on Nostramo to have a form of moral code and sense of law and justice. Despite his high position, he was known for being one of the few incorrupt politicians on Nostramo and furthermore, one that refused the various bribes of the gang-lords and nobles. Due to this, Janos and his wife lived in endless fear of various attacks but refused to back down in the face of society's corruption.

It was Janos that took pity on the wandering bleeding Primarch, and mistook the demigod for a child wounded in a street fight. Janos took him into his home and tried to nurse the demigod's wounds. To his surprise the wounds healed with remarkable speed and the boy quickly awoke. The Primarch viewed the couple with suspicion but did nothing to harm them as the kindness they showed him was something he had yet to witness on this world of night and shadows. The couple spoke to the child, trying to help him but the Primarch only spoke one thing, a name, his name, the last vestige of a memory left to him from before arriving to Nostramo reverberated a name to him: Konrad Curze. It seemed the Primarch's name was all that the couple would get from the child as Curze soon disappeared that night.

However, that would not be the last time Janos would see Curze as the demigod would visit the politician as he grew on Nostramo, asking the man about the world he lived upon and how it fell into such disrepair. Janos told the young Primarch, amazed by how quickly the boy was learning and growing. Janos was apprehensive of telling Curze the full history, as the dark-haired demigod showed a keen interest in the ideas of justice. Especially, in regards to how ancient Nostraman kings would string up criminals for all to see, dragging their deaths out for days for example to the masses.

As for Curze, he claimed he returned to Janos due to the man's honesty which was akin to an island of stability in the sea of corruption that was Nostramo Quintus. Wherever Curze tread he saw the strong oppressing the weak but something held him back from intervening. It was his visions that held him back, fear that if he spilt blood, even in the name of justice, that he would release the monster within, and become the pale king of the night who would lead an army of killers and murderers that would flay innocent and guilty alike chilled the Primarch to his core. But the surrounding corruption of Nostramo disgusted him, and he longed to find a more permanent solution to it.

Soon, Janos' wife came pregnant with a child; something which chilled Janos, as, despite his excitement for a child, he sensed that many who despised him would use this as a chance to either ruin him or bring him into the fold. Terrified of losing the respect that he had gained, as well as fear for his family, Janos told Curze of the many gang-lords that wanted him dead as well as his wife's pregnancy; confessing to the demigod all his fears and burdens to the one person he thought could make a difference. At first, Curze seemed indifferent to Janos' plight but at the mention of his child, something changed within the Primarch's face. Compassion for a split second changed his features. Curze said nothing and left, leaving Janos agape at what might this mysterious being might do.

And in one night, Nostramo Quintus saw the most brutal massacre in the city's history. Gang-lords were gutted, torn limb from limb, their corpses discarded out in the streets or hung from self-made gibbets. Only one man survived, some low level thug was driven mad by fear, telling all of the pale judge that slaughtered them like a wolf among sheep. As he was taken into custody, the man in his fear simply took his own life, unwilling to be a victim of the being he called Night Haunter. The story of this Night Haunter spread across Nostramo Quintus, though only two knew the true origin of this new power. Janos and his wife, and Janos found himself horrified at what had occurred. This wasn't justice, it was murder.

The Primarch returned to Janos' estate the following dawn, as Nostramo Quintus' entered the morning shift as more red and purple lights and glow-globes flickered on to brighten a blood-drenched city. Janos marvelled at the size and sheer physical prowess of the Primarch, having gone from a scrawny child to a young man in the span of a few months. Janos fought down the feelings of reverence towards this creature, fighting all his urges to prostrate himself and beg for mercy from this… creature. But Janos controlled himself, as there were bigger things to contend with than his own fear. A massacre had occurred last night, one that he had inadvertently prompted.

* * *

 _"What have you done?" Janos aksed, his eyes averting from Curze's black pupils. "You killed all of them."_

 _Curze shrugged one shoulder, uncaring to Janos' fear and anger. "They were guilty men, men who have bought and traded in flesh and blood. They would kill you and your family simply because you're a true man in a dishonest land."_

 _"So you killed for that?" Janos asked. "Ignoring the laws of this world," Curze laughed but Janos ignored it. "Killed them like animals without constraint. If you are able of killing a gang-lord's army then why not simply give evidence of their illegal activities to those that dispense justice?"_

 _"They would have failed!" Retorted the Primarch, with an animal's snarl._

 _"You don't know that!" Janos roared with enough force to give even Curze paused. The man calmed himself before quietly saying. "I am leaving Quintus with my family; I am leaving you to your 'justice,' Night Haunter. But remember: Justice is attainment not satisfaction."_

 _The man turned on the demigod but before he left the door Janos caught himself._

 _"I hope one day someone can be a better teacher to you than I was."_

 _Konrad simply stared as Janos left before looking down at his hands, thinking on what exactly the deaths had caused._

* * *

Curze himself recalled that the following days of his life on Nostramo were something that he has been unable to remember, all he recalls is the deep shame and loathing that came with Janos' dismissal of him, coupled with the one human that he could vaguely call a father considering him a monster led to Curze giving in to his darker aspects. He directed his rage to those he deemed as the reasoning for Janos' anger: the corrupt and the guilty.

More blood soaked Nostramo Quintus' streets and halls in the following nights as gang-lords and corrupt politicians were found dead or dying alongside the gory remains of their thugs and followers. Fear of the Night Haunter quickly spread across Nostramo as a whole, as for Curze his manic bloodlust ran riot. This, coupled with the visions that wracked his mind, led to Curze falling further and further into madness. Very little seemed to be done to stem the tide of death, and many citizens of Nostramo Quintus found themselves abiding the law by the letter to avoid death at the Night Haunter' claws.

It seemed that like many of his brothers, Curze had fallen into damnation on his homeworld. His crusade of blood - as well-meaning as it was - seemed to ensure another of the Emperor's sons falling in the arms of Chaos. That would be the case, if fate hadn't decided that Curze would walk a more troubling path. As the Primarch's crusade of vengeance and blood spread from Nostramo Quintus to the other cities surrounding it, where the petty nobles hid in their fortresses – falsely believing that would give them safety from the Night Haunter's reach - and also where Janos had gone to find safety. Something which would have tragic consequences for Curze and Janos.

Some wonder if this was the design of the Dark Gods, after all this reeks of the work of Tzeentch argues the Ordos Malleus, but given the results some argue otherwise. Perhaps the coming events were the work of the Four Powers, as they delight in torment of innocents but in doing so created one of the most dangerous sons of the Emperor. Very few have heard of what follows, as Curze's shame runs deeps; only his personal remembrancer, the Kyroptera of the VIII, and the Emperor Himself know of how Curze broke free of the sadistic rage that governed him.

The Night Haunter, still possessing a Primarch's intellect, knew that to kill all corruption within Nostramo was to strike the head from the serpent. All the governing bodies of Nostramo - all the corrupt ones at the very least - needed to die for Nostramo to better itself. And so, despite the best efforts of the corrupt nobles, Curze slinked his way into the great annual feast, where all the nobles families and great politicians of Nostramo feasted and cavorted, relishing in their power while people outside starved and died. This day, however, there was no feast. Only the screams of the dying and the damned as Night Haunter painted the palace red with their blood, slaughtering all the lords, ladies and nobles of Nostramo. It was butcher's work, violent and cruel. Crueller still was, unknowing to Konrad, Janos himself made an appearance in an attempt to use what little influence he had to sway the minds of the meeker nobles. With disastrous consequences.

* * *

 _It was over and it was done as all tragic times are. In the midst of his rage, Janos' pleas fell upon deaf ears and only when he was impaled by Curze's claws did the full realisation sink in. Curze tried to force the thoughts of shame aside, Janos was guilty. He must have been, but the thoughts of his childhood with Janos came flooding back. Tears fell from his eyes, and his head thrummed with rage as visions bombarded him._

 _He saw himself fighting against other giants like him, creatures from the dawn of time fighting alongside him. No, that wasn't justice, it was murder. This was murder. Kill, his visions roared, your fate cannot be changed Night Haunter. Give them justice. But what of Janos' child, where was her justice? Who would right the wrong he did to her? This wasn't justice._

 _Curze felt hands on his face, and he looked down at Janos who cupped his murderer's face with the love of a father. "Vindication. Not justice."_

 _Curze wept loud, the sobs coming heavy. "It's too late for me now. What justice can I deliver?"_

 _"You are beyond us all," Janos rasped softly, as Konrad tried to ease the man to the ground. "You have always been a learner… Learn… my son."_

 _Curze's screams of pain, rage and self-hate echoed throughout the room. This wasn't justice. Nostramo deserved men like Janos not the Night Haunter. Damn his visions, they were lies born of madness. For the first time in his life Konrad Curze felt like he knew what he needed to do, to right his wrong._

 _If only it hadn't come at such a high price._

* * *

The Primarch found a new position forced upon by his own brutal massacre, the title of king was now his to claim - after all there were none left and the ability to lead was written into his very being. At first, many thought Curze would become like the nobles and gang-lords before him, brutal and violent - as he did gain kinghood through cruelty. But his eyes were opened by the death of one he loved, the Primarch decided to rule justly and fair-handed. The Primarch came about his rule from the shadows and so this begat the name in which he became known as on Nostramo after his coronation: Lord of Shadows. Despite his intention to rule as not a tyrant, Curze was glad that his people did not forget his beginning. He had walked in shadows his whole life.

The Primarch king made sure that Janos' family were well-looked after, and his patronage ensured that Janos' daughter, Ariel, grew up with the education and resources needed to groom a beloved lady. His mentor's daughter and wife soon became advisers to the Lord of Shadows, and the trio would often spend time debating and discussing the many ways to improve Nostramo. Meanwhile, many politicians and community leaders that were like-minded to Janos felt safe to finally reveal themselves, Curze himself guaranteeing their protection. And with this, the filth of Nostramo was slowly washed away and for the first time in the planet's existence since Old Night could it be said that they had a just ruler, though Curze never did lose the stigma of fear he represented. The Night Haunter was still a title whispered behind his back.

As for himself, the Primarch brooded on the meaning of his visions. He felt that something in him had changed, something about his very being had been altered. And if that was the case, then were his visions wrong? Or had he interpreted them wrong. He knew of one that would become true. The return of his father the creator, the golden one: the Master of Mankind. And, in a pillar of light, the King of Nostramo's vision came true as the planet's citizens squinted at the great fleet above.

The Lord of Shadows told Nostramo's armies to stand down, and the Emperor marched through the streets of Nostramo Quintus, the citizens falling to their knees as the Emperor smiled warmly; every centimetre a proud father and beloved ruler. Alongside the Emperor came his transhuman warriors – both the Astartes and vaunted Custodes - and with them the Primarchs Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus, Rogal Dorn and Lorgar Aurelian. Curze sized up his father and brothers as each greeted them. Though in the end, Konrad knew this was fate.

* * *

 _The Emperor smiled at His son, amused by Curze's expression. It was like that of a cat surprised that the mouse was talking back; The VIII did not know what to make of his brothers and father. The Emperor's smile faltered slightly as he looked at Nostramo, no doubt the world took its toll on him. There was an undertone of tragedy in His Son's eyes, the look of a man that fell into darkness. But the Emperor trusted the results more than he did the VIII's self-doubt. He had saved a world from itself and that alone deserved praise._

 _"What say you, Judge of the Night?" The Emperor asked, voice warm and rich. "Will you allow us the pleasure of your company and your justice?"_

 _Curze looked to each of his brothers, a flicker of pain on his face as he stared at each of them. His gaze stopped as he looked upon the Urizen and the two brothers inclined their heads to one and other; a mutual understanding that was so quick it went unnoticed by all present, except the Emperor._

 _The Night Haunter took it all in a let out a slight breathe. "Am I worthy of seeing your dreams?"_

 _The Emperor approached Curze, and a part of Him felt great despair to watch His Son recoil in fear, and gently he cupped the VIII's pale chin and tilted the Lord of Shadows to look into His eyes. At first, the Primarch averted his gaze as it was like gazing into a star but he could not fight it forever and found himself looking into his father's face. The expression on the Emperor's face was one he could relate to. He looked weary, tired. A builder who just so wanted to rest but knew his work was barely even finished._

 _"Who are you to say you are not worthy?" The Emperor asked softly, the voice was… old. "You are My Son. And you are worthy."_

 _Konrad Curze the Night Haunter: the epitome and giver of fear and nightmare to Nostramo's underworld; Konrad Curze the Lord of Shadows: the fair but gaunt judge-king of Nostramo, whose legacy was born in spilt blood. He had not cried since he lost his foster-father, it seemed poetic that he would shed tears once more when reunited with his creator._

* * *

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"We carry a darkness in our souls. We all do, but none shall bear it like us. For innocents to be saved we must burden their sin, and commit many a dark deed in turn. But my lords of the night, I see your faces and I am proud to be known as your father for I see the faces of men that can do their duty and do so without complaint. Let vengeance drive us and justice temper us for we are the bearers of the Imperial Truth. Let our sins be remembered but never let it take over, my sons. We uphold the Lex Imperialis for we are the harbingers of order in a galaxy of corruption. Ave Dominus Nox!"_ \- Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Eighth Legion, upon meeting his sons for the first time.

* * *

The Eighth Primarch left Nostramo to join in his father's crusade for a united Mankind; leaving Nostramo to the care of Ariel and the other trusted scholar-nobles of Nostramo. Curze was taken to the Throneworld. Curze was taken back by the shimmering globe of the Imperium. Past the ecumenopolis that was Terra, beneath the tens of thousands of years of history and crumbling infrastructure, he saw something beautiful and pure. Despite Terra's many failures and bloody history, the Primarch saw the efforts of his father in rebuilding Mankind's Cradle.

A reminder to Curze of what his coming actions would be done in the defence of. It was also upon Terra where the Night Haunter reunited with his genetic legacy; his sons of the VIII. The Eighth Legion was brutal, and by the other Legions standards, untrustworthy. They practiced in the shadows, slaying tyrants and cruel lords in their sleep instead of an honest battlefield. Their primogenitor on the other hand found his sons to be the perfect instruments to be wielded in his hands, used as weapons of terror in the Crusade to bring the galaxy to heel and to cement the Imperium's rule. The Lord of Shadows renamed the VIII the Night Lords, and unleashed them against a defiant galaxy.

Now with their gene-father leading them, the Eighth Legion joined the Crusade in all their brutal earnest. Nostramo soon provided a steady stream of recruits to bolster the growing Legion. The Night Haunter and his Night Lords soon developed a mixed reception as many hoped Curze would quash the secretive, back-handed ways of the Night Lords, alas the Lord of Shadows encouraged his sons tactics, refining them and making them the terrors of the night that saw hundreds of worlds join the Imperium without a shot being fired, all due to their reputation that planetary governments were horrified of. That said, Curze did rescind his sons former ways of unrestrained butchery for he would not brook the death of those he saw as innocents trapped under the rule of tyrants. As such, it became common that while some Night Lords would be slitting the throats of the corrupt and tyrannical, or crippling the enemy's infrastructure and harrowing their armed forces, others would be sent to steal away the oppressed until the opposing world had yielded to Imperial authority.

This led to the Night Lords gaining a mixed reputation among Imperial forces; some were seen as blood-hungry thugs from Nostramo's gutter, and others philosophical saviours that knew how to defy true corruption. As for the Night Lords themselves, unlike other Legions, they took this reputation with humour, some even comically adding over-the-top hearsay and nonsense for the sake of it. In particularly First Captain Jago 'Sevatar' Sevatarion, who was infamous for his brand of humour and bearing a constant snarling grimace.

Like his Legion's reputation, Curze's relationship with his brothers was likewise mixed. He was a solitary figure who preferred the company of those he chose, even mortals, over his own brothers. This led to disdain from the more prideful Primarchs; Guilliman and the Lion in particular. Others, like Angron, were worried that his brutal past would lead Curze to repeating the same massacre that led to his rise to power on his homeworld. The most hated relationship was that between Curze and Vulkan, as when the pair met it was with utter contempt. Many believe it was due to their broken upbringings; both recognizing the pain of their past but despised by the reminder of it. Dorn and Curze were known to despise each other, as the Lord of Shadows viewed the Unyielding One as a bloody tyrant, similar to those he overthrew. Dorn further offended the Lord of Nostramo when he laid claim to the life of First Captain Sevatar after his infamous duel with Sigismund.

As for those among the Primarchs whom Curze respected; both Horus and Sanguinius had his admiration. In the case of Horus, it was the simple respect that the future Warmaster had shown him that led to their tight bond, while with the Angel it was with the compassion he showed the Night Haunter as he too felt a pariah by those he fought for. Curze was taken back by Sanguinius' compassion and his refusal to allow his wings to define him.

When the Emperor retired from the Crusade after Ullanor and chose Horus as His Warmaster to lead the Imperium's armies in His wake, Curze applauded such a choice. He viewed Horus as the most balanced of all the Primarchs, a natural leader and brilliant commander with charisma and daring to match. To the Eighth Primarch, the First Found seemed an obvious choice. Curze also took delight in the dismay of the likes of Guilliman and the Lion who were forced to swallow their pride and come to terms with the Emperor's decision.

While brutal in his tactics, the Night Lord Primarch knew of the intimacy of crossing boundaries, something which came to a dangerous head when Horus attempted to rectify the bridge between him and Vulkan on a joint campaign on Khaaratan. To many this was one of the few decisions that Horus made that would be seen as potentially foolish. The genuine hatred between Vulkan and Curze was infamous amongst the Emperor's sons, though Horus hoped that the bonds of brotherhood would break this tension. In truth, it had the opposite effect. Horus likewise sent the Lion to act as both a mediator and to keep a watchful eye on his two brothers; but the Lion was still reeling from being denied the title Warmaster, and so avoided mediating between the VIII and the XVIII, remaining aboard his flagship during Khaaratan's compliance.

Khaaratan was a world populated by humans and xenos. Instead of living in equal union, such as the Diasporex or the Interex, the Khaaratan humans were subjects to the xenos overlords, an off-branch of the Eldar. When the three Imperial Legions arrived, the Dark Angels secured the void, allowing the Night Lords and Salamanders to land en masse. The two Legions assaulted dozens of objectives across the planet, intent on crippling any human-xenos military response to the invasion before they could properly mobilise.

While Night Lord cruelty has been well-documented during the Great Crusade and the millennia since, it paled in comparison to that of the Salamanders. Where the Night Lords select their targets to cause maximum psychological damage that coincided with the minimum amount of human lives lost, the Salamanders slaughtered with abandon, eagerly butchering with blade, bolter and flamer. Curze's strategy for Khaaratan was to eliminate the least populous hive city on the planet, after issuing an ultimatum for surrender. The Night Haunter's reasoning was twofold.

He hoped the human slaves would see the futility of defying the Imperium and throw their weapons down, casting down their xenos masters and embracing the Emperor's Angels of Death; whilst also showing the Imperium's brutality to those it deemed an enemy, as it was the Primarch's wish that once the planet was brought to heel, its denizens would never rise up against the Imperium for fear of retribution. Within a single local day the smallest, least populated, hive city was eliminated, man, woman, and child, both human and alien. Though the Night Lords took no pleasure in this course of action they saw the necessity of it. And their damnable effort bore fruit as dozens of the world's cities overthrew the Eldar overlords and threw their gates open to the legionnaires of the VIII and XVIII.

What should have been marked as an easy, near bloodless compliance among Imperial forces, nearly devolved into open warfare between the two Legions. All due to reports reaching Konrad Curze of Vulkan's Salamanders entering the surrendering cities and massacring the population with mercy. By the time Curze had redeployed his Night Lords to the rest of Khaaratan's population centres, hundreds of millions of humans were murdered. Curze confronted Vulkan, saying it was unnecessary violence but the Salamander Primarch was unshakeable in his pursuit of bleeding the human population dry in the pursuit of any and all Eldar.

* * *

First Captain Jago 'Sevatar' Sevatarion, the Prince of Crows

The Great Crusade acted as a fine breeding ground for heroes among the Legiones Astartes, the triumphant battles of Mankind separated chaff from the wheat and many among the Space Marine Legions are remembered to this very day. As loathed and as respected as the Night Lords were in those days, it is of no surprise that one among them rose to the ranks of such legends like Khârn, Ezekyle Abaddon, and Sigismund. Sevatar, through raw ability and countless battles, ascended to the rank of First Captain, earning the epithet 'the Prince of Crows' along the wat. And like his father, Sevatar walked a fine line between killer and saviour incredibly closely.

As with many of the Night Lords, Sevatar was a Nostraman-born and had seen and suffered first-hand the corruption of his home. An orphan child that fought for scraps, Sevatar also suffered from another plight: nascent psyker powers. He fought and repressed these powers by focusing on the sounds of the carrion birds of Nostramo - which there were plenty - to help combat the pain. When the Legion began to recruit from their primogenitor's homeworld, Sevatar was among the first inducted into the ranks of the Night Lords and there he thrived. Though unbalanced and somewhat crass by Astartes standards, Sevatar quickly rose through the ranks due to both skill and vicious pragmatism. To the Prince of Crows, the honour of a duel meant nothing to him and he would resort to all manner of tricks to win. Most famously the duel between him and Sigismund, though in Night Lord's defence he had hoped to teach the ill-tempered Imperial Fist a lesson.

Out of all of his brothers, Sevatar was one of the few that could claim to know the tortured soul of his gene-sire and the burden of destiny that weighed on the Lord of Shadows' shoulders. The Prince of Crows loved and revered his father but was one of the few that could and would criticised his father whenever he felt that Curze had crossed lines as well as acting as something of a conscience for the Night Haunter. As for when it came to the battlefields of the Heresy, Sevatar was a master of close assault, tearing through Traitor Space Marines and their allies with his Nostraman chainglaive. His skill, coupled with nascent but long repressed psychic powers, made his strikes and parries uncannily precise, blocking the blows of his opponent with ease and expertly evading their defences to deliver the killing blow. Few in the annals of the Eighth Legion have matched the Prince of Crows and none have surpassed him.

* * *

Knowing that the escalating tensions between two Legions would end disastrously, Curze ordered his sons to withdraw, saving all those that they could. The Salamanders scoffed at the weakness of their night-dwelling kin and continued burning and maiming their way through Khaaratan. Curze himself approached Vulkan to plead with him one last time before abandoning the world as another one of Vulkan's victims. Only for the Eighth Son to be fully confronted by the violent, smouldering rage that simmered beneath the surface of the Eighteenth.

* * *

 _Curze snarled in anger at the Salamanders that stood in his path, around him all he could feel was the heat of a dying world and the screams of xenos and human alike. Guilt bore down on the Lord of Shadows, eating away at his resolve. He wished he could've saved more of the mind-wracked settlers but he had done all he could. Already his sons evacuated them to his fleet in orbit, away to safety, away from the Lord of Drakes._

 _"Is there an issue, my Primarch?" Sevatar asked him, ignoring the looming Salamanders as if they were nothing more than children wielding playthings._

 _Curze nodded to the Salamanders, "I merely wished to say goodbye to my brother but these… reptiles stand against me."_

 _As tension began to thicken, the Salamanders raised their bolters. Curze unwittingly grinned, hoping to tease them into making a mistake, while Sevatar's armoured finger subtlety hovered over his chainglaive's activation rune. If it came to it, Curze knew his favoured son would take the three on the left, while the Atramentar squad behind him would establish a cordon of retreat if need be._

 _"Enough!" came a baritone voice as deep as a burning volcano. "Step forward, brother."_

 _Curze ignored the fact that the voice made the word 'brother' sound like a curse more than a sign of camaraderie but he had to give Vulkan the benefit of the doubt - there were few among their kind who would consider him a brother. The hulking form of Vulkan dwarfed all present - save for a few dreadnoughts clad in the green of the XVIII – and Curze was momentarily taken back by the smouldering rage lurking in those all red eyes of his. In his brother, Curze saw a reflection of himself, a version of him uncontrolled and misled, a lord of endless terror, the Night Haunter true and embraced. It horrified him._

 _Around Vulkan were the corpses of score of Eldar. Curze felt disgust at the cruel xenos who had lorded over humans for millennia, this was merely justice. Still, the… painful excess for which they had been killed was disturbing. A Night Lord would torture and maim and kill to cripple morale or pave the way for an easier, less costly victory down the line, but this was pain given in return of satisfaction. It was sickening. As he and his First Captain approached, he noted that Vulkan held a still-wriggling xenos in his gauntlet, delighting in its weakness._

 _"We are leaving," Curze stated matter-of-factly, paying no mind to the surrounding Salamanders and the silent Drake Lord. "The Lion has taken care of the fleet above. We are taking the settlers with us; you can clean up the xenos if it pleases you."_

 _"It does," Vulkan responded with a smirk. The Nocturnean Primarch raised the xenos, and Curze saw it curse and struggle. "Look at this creature, brother, weak and pathetic. If these simpering settlers fell to the whims of the Eldar so easily then they deserve the purifying breath of my flamers."_

 _"They are the Imperium, as all of humanity is."_

 _"Does saving them wash away your sins, I wonder?" Vulkan asked with a grin, before snapping the Eldar's neck and casting the corpse to the small pile beside him. "Does it ease your guilt? Your attempts to hide your true self are false, brother. Embrace what you are, become what you are meant to be, as I have."_

 _Konrad ignored him and his accusations and looked to the dead alien, "While you broke them, did you find out why they chose to defy us so blatantly?"_

 _Vulkan shrugged. "To these creatures this is simply entertainment, though many are young by their standards. Perhaps they thought to temper themselves on easy pickings. Mayhaps the Lion has a more clear answer for you, brother." He shrugged, uncaring. "Who is to know the mind -"_

 _A cry broke Vulkan's speech and all turned to a small figure wading from the smoke. Curze's eyes narrowed. It was a child, a child of Isha. It seemed Vulkan was right; this wasn't an invasion as much as it was a teaching to the future generations of humanity on the Eldar's audacity and flawed belief it is the superior species. Curze noted his brother pause, likewise scrutinising the child._

 _He rose from his makeshift throne and made his way towards the child. Konrad intervened, "Do not, brother. You have shed far too much blood this day. Far too much!"_

 _Vulkan threw Konrad aside, and the Prince of Crows made to intercept the red-eyed Primarch only for Curze to raise a hand to stop him. Vulkan paced towards the xenos child and raised his great fist._

 _"This is how the Imperium was born," Vulkan decreed. "Blood."_

 _The fist fell and Curze's eyes widened as he saw his brother in a different light. A great monster trapped within a maze between realities: a daemon from the darkest abyss. In that moment, as the xenos child screamed Curze swore to never let him or his sons fall to such depths as around him the Salamanders bellowed out in victory. But from the shadows of his vision he could see the sight of a figure with a blade..._

* * *

The Night Lord Primarch swore that the Imperium would know of the Salamanders unthinking violence and many noted the haunted expression he bore after the campaign. Many believed what the Primarch saw had a great impact on him - especially in the behaviour of his own sons. As for the rescued citizens of Khaaratan, they swore loyalty to the Lord of Shadows and were inducted into the ranks of the Night Lords as their own auxiliary force.

Curze was never able to prosecute Vulkan's actions as the size of the Great Crusade made such things difficult, alongside Rogal Dorn's blatant disregard for Vulkan's actions. When news of Sanguinius raising the flag of rebellion alongside three other Legions on Isstvan began to spread, Curze and the Night Lords were unable to join the Retribution Armada in time. Some believe that the Lord of Shadows chose not to expedite to join due to the involvement of the Salamanders while others would say that Curze had foreseen the Dropsite Massacre and knew that his Legion would be needed at full strength to combat the traitors in the battles to follow. Whatever the reason, the Night Lords were one of the few Loyalist Legions not mauled in the Sanguinary Heresy's early days.

 **The Heresy: Shadows Become Them**

 _"Do not take my silence for a lack of rage, messenger. Underneath my coldness burns a rage that would impress even Angron. Do not think I take this rebellion lightly, as something trivial. Sanguinius has broken a sacred vow: to secure the Imperium's ascendance and the Emperor's mastery of it. He has decided to spit in the face of all that we have worked towards like a petulant child._

 _Let my father know that my sons will bleed the Arch-Traitor. If the Angel Fallen thinks that he can reach Terra unopposed, then he is sorely mistaken. My Night Lords shall harry him and his allies at every turn. We will strike from the shadows, we will cut and claw at them, and we will bleed the rebellion to its corrupt bones. For those who decried me and mine as monsters have become monsters themselves. No I will not sit idly by as the Imperium burns, for my justice awaits them. Sevatar! Call forth the Legion's fleets for now we hunt the greatest of quarry: our own kin!"_ \- Attributed to Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Night Lords Legion when news of the Isstvan V Dropsite Massacre reached him.

* * *

Curze was among the first to discover the horrific news of Sanguinius' unexpected victory on Isstvan V, intercepting the Terminus Est, a Death Guard battle-barge which managed to evacuate a great many loyalists away from the Drpsite Massacre, and it was from them that Curze learned just how deep the betrayal went, as well as the full level of corruption to be found among the traitor forces of the Angel Fallen. The Lord of Shadows sent the Terminus Est to Terra with its news, alongside a small portion of his fleet to act as an escort. As for Curze, he brooded for many days on what to do, fearful of the fate of his loyal brothers that were said to have survived, and vengeful over those that had perished. He was at war with himself and his own visions; in particular one which portrayed him and his sons as rabid murderers, heralds of treachery.

He knew he could not let Sanguinius' monstrous horde march to Terra, and so decided that for the good of humanity he would allow his sons to fully embrace their darker halves without restriction or restraint. The Night Lords, incensed by the treachery of the Nine Traitor Legions, revelled in their gene-sire's new orders: to bleed the traitors. To use all the terror-tactics they had learned and mastered over the Great Crusade to break the traitors' spirit. To make those created to know no fear to become wary in the night and shiver with dread as the Night Lords approached.

As for the traitors, they had collapsed under their own titanic weight. Each Legion split off to pursue their own dark whims, each of them making their own path to either venerate a particular Dark God or to simply use their newly acquired 'gifts' to sate their desires or pursue power for the sake of it. It was something the Angel Fallen was greatly irked with as the Arch-Betrayer had hoped to march towards Terra with the rebellion united in purpose as the Imperium reeled from the twin defeats at Isstvan V and Prospero. The Night Lords willingly capitalised on these divisions.

So began a long campaign of harassment and brutalising from the shadows. The Night Lords used all manner of underhanded tactic that they had gathered over the longs years of warfare, tactics that their Primarch had utilized during his darkest days on Nostramo. War was not about honour, a code of conduct, or even ideals to the Night Lords. Not anymore. Now it was simply victory or defeat, and the Night Lords swore that the Imperium would emerge victorious, even if it was victor over the ashes.

Some of the Night Lords took to these orders with a grim sense of duty, while others fully relished in allowing their inhibitions to run rampant, and the traitors soon began to know this. At every turn, the Night Lords were there - or failing that the Alpha Legion who coordinated intermittently with the VIII - and unlike the loyalist forces slaughtered at Isstvan, the Night Lords were prepared. Entire Traitor Army regiments were lost during the Heresy, only for their bleached bones and desecrated corpses to turn up on traitor-aligned worlds. Convoys and squadrons of traitor ships were harried by the VIII, their crews butchered and ships crippled, all while driving fear into those among the Imperial Army that had thrown their lot in with Chaos to near panic. Initially the Traitor Astartes dismissed such tactics but they did not do so for long. At first it was isolated squads of Astarte taken in the night across hundreds of worlds, but soon it was whole companies who were killed or disappeared, never to be seen again.

The most famous example of this was the disappearance of the Sixteenth Chapter of the Ultramarines, the Libators. The Libators, some three thousand strong, were assaulting the Imperial Fortress World of Calladon in Ultima Segmentum, greatly outnumbering and outgunning the besieged Imperials, bolstered by an Iron Warriors battalion. During the thirty-second day of the siege, the traitor legionnaires suddenly ceased firing their assembly of artillery cannons on Calladon's legendary Bastion fortress, and began to fight amongst themselves, their base camp alight with bolter-fire and explosions. Due to a thick dust storm that regularly came and went on Calladon, the Imperial defenders were unable to witness what happened but when the dust storm abided half a day later they found only rebel Army and Ultramarine corpses, with the words _'Ave Dominus Nox'_ carved into the decapitated head of the Ultramarine Chapter Master. This was but one of many defeats and setbacks that befell the Traitor Legions in their drive to Sol.

Worse still for the traitors was that the Night Haunter, with his insight into the darkness within and keen observation of the rebel forces, had noticed that Sanguinius' armies had not only collapsed under its own weight but under the allegiance to the 'gods' they worshipped. Curze, for his part, did not believe in any god and was initially bewildered that the traitors had given themselves so fully to some cosmic parasite. Still, he could see that it did not take much to have the traitors harry each other, Iron Hand against Dark Angel, or Imperial Fist against Raven Guard. The dichotomy of Chaos was used against them, setting them at each other's throat many times throughout the Heresy, forcing Sanguinius to devote significant time and effort to maintain a semblance of peace amongst the Fallen Nine.

Curze's war against the traitors knew no bounds, something which troubled the likes of Talos Valcoran but and further encouraged the likes of Sevatar. But things began to escalate when the Primarch, having seen the impact of playing the traitors against each other, wanted to find the perfect way to punish them for their sin. And so, ordered his sons to take survivors from the traitors so that he might interrogate them. Four traitor Astartes were taken by the Night Lords; one a Raven Guard, one a Salamander and two Blood Angels. The captives were of no rank so as not to draw attention, and their squads were destroyed.

None know what the Primarch asked of them, as it was only himself alone with them when the interrogation began. All that is known was when the Night Haunter left the interrogation-chamber, all four legionnaires were dead, their corpses barely recognizable as those belonging to transhuman warriors. Due to the interrogation, Curze compiled his newfound knowledge, penning the _Grimoire_ _Umbra Noctis_ , a tome on how best to break those that follow Chaos. Unlike _the Book of Lorgar_ or the _Lectitio Divinitatus_ , the _Grimoire_ _Umbra Noctis_ does not rely on faith in the God-Emperor nor the null powers of the Silent Sisterhood, and to this day the Night Lords consult this tome of fell knowledge. While many others - chief among them the Inquisition - would see it destroyed as they decree it a source of possible contamination, a tainted collection of untrustworthy knowledge.

With this new knowledge, Curze continued his campaign of terror against the traitors, leading to frustration among the traitor leadership; and so Sanguinius despatched both the White Scars under Shiban Khan's command and the Ultramarines led by Marius Gage to hunt down the Nostraman Primarch, or at least keep the Night Lords sufficiently distracted to prevent them from combating Sanguinius' own more vital forces. This hunt and the battles that followed in its wake became known as the Thramas Crusade.

 **The Thramas Crusade: The War in Shadows**

It was on the Imperium's Eastern Fringes in which Marius Gage, Master of the First Chapter, believed he had corned the Loyalist Primarch, having harried Night Lord forces for over three years. During the pursuit, he and Shiban Khan worked close together. The White Scars were used as flanking elements to raid and pillage any loyalist worlds supplying the VIII, also acting as a scouting-raiding force for Gage's Ultramarines who were the bulk of the traitors within the Thramas Sector, using the Thirteenth Legion's organisation and combat flexibility to corner and overcome several Night Lord contingents in open battle. Despite some early victories, the traitors found themselves desperately trying to survive the Night Lords' assaults, as even the hit-and-run masters of the V were perplexed and outmaneuvered by the sons of Nostramo. It was only with the aid of several Raven Guard sorcerers, and dangerous daemon-engines created by the Iron Hands, that the Ultramarines were able to prevent their total destruction at the hands of the loyalists.

Curze, frustrated with Gage's tenacity and resourcefulness, and his use of dark sorcery beyond his control led to Curze become more and more dangerous, both to the enemy but also t himself. Some noted that the Lord of Shadows became more gaunt and ghoul-like. Some, like Talos, grew increasingly concerned with their gene-father but knew that the traitors must be crushed first. However, after a ceasefire failure in which the Ultramarine First Master attempted to kill the Primarch, things became direr for the Emperor's killers. Deploying the Iron Hand daemon-engines, Gage was able to ambush and destroy a fifth of the Night Lord fleet at Tsagualsa. Not only were tens of thousands of Night Lords killed, but the Night Haunter was gravely wounded, temporarily slipping into a healing coma for several days.

When the Primarch awoke, he was changed. Less forgiving, more melancholic, prone to violent visions of various horrors, and yearning to spill traitor blood, even if at great cost to himself and others. This greatly disturbed the Kyroptera, who began to privately discuss their Primarch's mental deterioration into base savagery. Curze would have no doubt attempted revenge if not, somehow, a distress signal originated from the Ruinstorm. The World Eaters and Word Bearers, who were long thought dead years ago, somehow were surviving in the Ruinstorm.

Yet they remain trapped in Guilliman's empire and needed a signal to follow, one powerful enough to pierce the warp-storm. This cry for aid awoke Curze from his developing madness and decided a bold course of action, reminiscent of the Night Haunter of old. He divided his fleet into two, the larger which would be led by Sevatar and himself, but quietly sending one of his sons, Captain Krukesh the Pale, to a planet on the Ruinstorm's edge, while he and Sevatar would tie down Gage's forces.

The gambit work and Krukesh was able to break away from the fleet to aid in Alpha Legion efforts on Sotha, allowing the World Eaters and Word Bearers to escape from hell's maw. As for Curze, he retaliated brutally against Guilliman's second-in-command, as Night Lord ambush fleets tore apart the Ultramarines and White Scars. The Thramas Crusade would have likely raged on for many months more if outside factors had not intervened. Sanguinius recalled Gage and Shiban Khan, desperately needing their forces for the war's final campaigns. Curze realised he could little good out on the fringe of known space, and redeployed to the Segmentum Solar.

It is unknown how the Night Lords were able to traverse the width of the galaxy in mere weeks, especially as warp storms continued to hamper loyalist movements throughout much of the Imperium. The Imperial Cult preaches it was the God-Emperor clearing a path for the righteous, while some say it was a string of good luck, while still some in the Inquisition and Alpha Legion circles whisper it was stable routes through the Webway, though how the Night Haunter discovered such a way remains a mystery as he took the secret with him to his deathbed. Regardless of how the Night Lords accomplished it, they did in fact make it Yarant, one of the gateways to the Sol System, and it was there they readied for the traitor onslaught.

While Sanguinius assaulted Beta-Garmon, Leman Russ attacked Yarant. Freshly arrived from the Eye of Terror, the Wolf King bolstered by fell power and led his Space Wolves into battle against the Lords of Night. It was a close battle, both sides ravaging the other. There was no subtlety, no strike from the shadows, it was brawn versus terror, frostblade versus lightning claw.

As more of his sons died around him, Curze charged the line, only to be met by his brother. Russ was wracked by the powers of Chaos, an unseen but felt light reverberated from the Wolf King like a cancerous pulse. Primarch and Daemon-Primarch would clash, and the universe would tremble - but not for the last time.

* * *

 _As he neared his brother, Lightning Claws raised, time seemed to slow and his head began to pound. Not now, he thought, not here. Visions roared in his skull as he thought on his failures, he had indulged himself too much and in doing so was costing the loyalist cause. His anger, his hate, and even his damn pride had interfered too much, fed by his melancholy and sense of unescapable destiny. He should have been at Yarant months ago, even a year ago. There would have been more time, more defences, but alas his mistakes and inability to continue containing his inner darkness had led he and his here._

 _Curze hoped that Krukesh had done his duty and allowed Angron and Lorgar to escape from Guilliman's folly, for they would be needed for the final battle. But if not, this would be his retribution and atonement. All he could do now was buy Perturabo time by keeping the traitors from Terra's door another day, just one more. A snarling Space Wolf leaped at Curze and his claws found the legionnaire's neck without batting an eye, the armour and flesh parting with ease, the blood hissing as it hit his claws' energy field. Why, by his father's name, did he still see his sons as monsters? Why did the visions promise him that? Fate was mutable, his life taught him that and yet this vision persevered despite the changes he had made, the precautions he had put into place. Was fate inevitable? Was he doomed to join the ranks of the damned no matter what? Was unleashing his sons, granting them to embrace the terror within to combat the traitors, a mistake? Perhaps._

 _ **"Konrad!"** Leman's voice rang out, coupled with something else. Oh brother, Curze lamented, the wolf has consumed you._

 _ **"Come here, Konrad! Where are you? You're a damn coward. Face me and die with honour!"** The thing roared into the shadow._

 _Curze smiled to himself, how smug of it to presume it had honour and he did not. Still, if Russ wanted to play, he would indulge him and get a measure of the enemy. And so with the grace of some great feline, Konrad Curze descended from the ceiling of the starship to look upon his wolf brother._

 _ **"You will die today, brother."** Russ said, not unlike Vulkan, their familial bond having tuned into a curse._

 _What a feeble notion, for one to come from a world that believed in fate, Russ had a poor notion of it. Suddenly, a flickering thought - another vision - came to him. His body laid dead, and his sons shrieked in anger. What an oddity for such a vision to come now. The figure with the blade… in the shadows of his sight yet again. Who was this person… who was their blade meant for?_

 _He made himself laugh, loud and proud and relished in the monster's warped anger. "I know when I will die, I have foreseen it, as I have foreseen who will wield the blade… and it is not you, Russ. You cannot kill me. Fate won't allow it."_

 _Leman Russ leveled his great blade and Curze leaped to meet him, and a great battle between two brothers; two executioners of Mankind's foes began._

* * *

None know how Curze managed to escape from his duel with Russ, the Daemon-Primarch was something that not even the Lord of Shadows could contend with, all that was known that the Night Lords were scattered by the Sixth Legion and forced to reunite after the defeat at Yarant, allowing the traitors to push through and onto Terra. Many wanted to follow but Curze knew that they could do nothing, scattered as they were. Luckily, Krukesh the Pale succeeded in his mission, and the two mighty but battered war-fleets of the Word Bearers and World Eaters had pushed through the Ruinstorm. The XII and XVII rendezvoused with the Emperor's Children, so the three decimated but still strong Legions tore their way to Terra, for vengeance.

Curze rallied his sons though it took several months as various traitor elements lingered behind the Angel Fallen to prevent any loyalist reinforcement. But the Night Lords, unable to participate in the Siege, took out their fury on the traitors. When word that Sanguinius had been killed and the Heresy ended reached the Night Haunter, few traitors that had remained to stall him and the VIII still drew breath. Though news that the Imperium had survived and emerged victorious, the cost had been painfully high. Trillions dead, the Nine Loyalist Legions scarred and depleted, and the deaths of Mortarion, Alpharius, and Horus were dire wounds, but nothing could compare to the loss of the Emperor.

With Malcador the Sigillite dead and the Emperor entombed on the Golden Throne, the Imperium was leaderless. The de facto heir, Warmaster Horus, was killed by the Arch-Betrayer. As the surviving Primarchs and other Imperial leaders came together to form the High Lords, only Konrad Curze refused a seat. Rather than for noble ideals or just reasons, the truth of the matter was that the Night Haunter was busy reeling in his sons. The pyrrhic victory, especially the Emperor's deathless state, drove the VIII further into madness, mirroring their father's mentality during the latter stages of the Thramas Crusade. The Night Lords slaughtered almost indiscriminately in the months following the Siege, entire worlds put to the sword for harbouring traitor elements. The newly formed High Lords had no control over the Eighth Legion, worrying many of its members as some talked of adding the VIII to the list of Excommunicate Traitoris. Curze himself had little control over his sons and, to the dismay of the Primarch during his few brief moments of clarity, he did not want to rein them in and that above all else horrified the Night Haunter.

 **Post-Heresy: Sacrifice**

 _"I see their hunger as plain as my own… they carry my sin. No. I will not let it be. I have toiled so hard to save them but I know… there is only one path left. Talos, Sevatar, remember my last words and know I do this for you all. My sons, my Night Lords, I must die."_ \- Extract taken from the personal biography of Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Eighth Legion.

* * *

Due to the fact that the Night Lords were not present on Isstvan V for the Dropsite Massacre nor on the killing fields of Terra during the Siege, the Eighth Legion found itself as one of the more intact Loyalist Legions in the Heresy's aftermath. While the other Legions were forced to return their homeworlds to replenish their ranks, or deploy to strategic worlds to secure their resources and armaments, or to remain on Terra to rebuild and refortify, the VIII were at the forefront of the Imperium's retribution as they hunted down the traitors. Curze seemed frantic though in his bouts of psychological stability, and deeply concerned with what his sons were becoming. This concern became punctuated as the Night Lords came upon many worlds that had sworn fealty to Sanguinius.

Some had simply been deceived by the words of traitors, while others had sworn loyalty to the Angel Fallen out of fear, but many were willing to pay recompense to the Imperium. But against his Primarch's orders, Sevatar led several companies to butcher and burn the worlds; not caring for such 'weakness'. Curze grew deeply concerned that his sons would soon become pariahs among their own; something which led to the fall of many of the traitors. The Primarch did not know how to correct his sons, he had not the means to. Until fate delivered it to him.

The creature that came hunting for the Night Haunter was called M'Shen but other than that very little is known about it. It was a hybrid of Neverborn and assassin but the Officio Assassinorum claims to have known none by that name. Many believe it was sent in an act of spite by the traitors, perhaps by Raldoron to pacify those within the Blood Angels who denied his claim to Overseer. But the Lord Overseer of the Baal Tri-Worlds has never been recorded as having gloated of such a thing. Whatever its origin, Curze knew that this was his chance to save and redeem the souls of his sons… at the cost of his own.

* * *

 _He had ordered his sons to leave him, but they did not know why. He remembered the looks of confusion across the faces of Talos and Sevatar. Those two were the sides of coin his Legion personified. Talos the Judge and Sevatar the Executioner. He just hoped that what was to come would change that. Sevatar had become grim in the Heresy, too dark and too malcontent. Curze sighed. He had been a poor father these last years. He would not have his Night Lords end up like Russ' dogs or the Blood Angels. Not if this one act could change it._

 _A soft thud was all the warning he was given and Curze turned to see the figure with a blade. "You," he all but whispered._

 _The half-daemon woman tilted her head. **"You knew of our coming?"**_

 _"I have always known." Konrad said, disgusted by the look of satisfaction on the creature's face. "Your presence is not a surprise or a happenstance. It was I who let you come this far. It was I that decided to die, not your foetid gods. This… this is fate as pure as it can be. So strike me down, worm of Chaos, and be cursed for the centuries to come. I accept my fate as I did my duty and know that death is not submission. This is justice and a reminder of what attainment truly is."_

 _The Neverborn-beast snarled in anger and leaped toward the demigod while a serene smile came across Konrad Curze's face._

* * *

The Night Haunter's death was a great shock to the Imperium. Though the Scouring was being waged, its successful conclusion several years away, his remaining brothers did honour his death. Perturabo was said to have constructed a great statue in remembrance of him, while Angron and Lorgar both swore that any remaining servants of Chaos too foolish to flee would suffer. As for his own sons, a schism occurred. Talos, expressly going against the orders of his father, hunted down and killed M'Shen while Sevatar was said to go mad with grief. Talos was pacified in the death of the Chaos assassin.

But Sevatar demanded more death and blood split to atone for his father's demise. Sevatar assembled his elite First Company, the Atramentar on Nostramo. There, in the Plaza of Light where the Emperor had embraced His Eighth Son, the Atramentar painted their gauntlets the arterial red of sinners for failing their gene-sire. The Prince of Crows led his company into the Eye of Terror, and to this day none know what became of Sevatar. No traitor has boasted of slaying him and there are rumours of mutant shadow-wraiths bearing red hands that hunt traitor and renegade alike in the Eye but such rumours have been dismissed by many.

With many of the leadership dead or following Sevatar into the Great Eye, Talos was recognized as one best suited to lead the Night Lords. Under his leadership the Night Lords began to heal, reverting to their pre-Heresy philosophies, and those more violent Night Lords that had remained began to see the error of their ways and began to once more suppress the darkness within. Suddenly, the crimson mist seemed to have been lifted from the Night Lords as they began to realise how low they had fallen in their vengeance.

The Night Lords slowed in their carnage and began to return to the roots that had led to praise in the days of the Great Crusade. As for Talos Valcoran, he was greatly praised for his actions during the Scouring; the nobility he fought for became a symbol that the Night Lords rallied behind. However, despite the growing praise, they did not cease in the study of the _Grimoire Umbra Noctis_ , rather they refined aspects of the tome and still study its pages to this day for insight in how to break Chaos, something which irked the Word Bearers and Inquisition to no end. The results speak for themselves however, and many felt the Night Lords were a greater service to the Imperium by being able to install genuine fear into the Lost and the Damned.

* * *

Talos Valcoran, Hunter of Souls

Talos Valcoran is one of many that rose to prominence during the Great Crusade and the Heresy. One could argue it was him that guided his brothers back to the light, and avoided the fate of traitors. Talos was an Apothecary in the Night Lords Tenth Company, and like a few rare souls in his Legion, he shared his father's ability to gaze into the future despite lacking the powers of a psyker. His gifts granted him a friendship with his gene-sire, and he was a part of the infamous Circle of Shadows, where Konrad Curze bonded with his sons, and like Curze Talos was deeply concerned with the behaviour of the Night Lords in the Heresy's final stages. And it was during their last meeting that Talos was given his title of Soul Hunter, his gene-sire knowing he would not allow M'Shen's crime to go unpunished.

Curze ordered his sons to leave him aboard the Nightfall, ordering many to landfall on nearby worlds nearing pacification but Talos saw through the ruse, as did many others but their desire for carnage overcame their wish to defend their primogenitor. The Soul Hunter knew his sire's death was inevitable but viscously fought against it. Only to arrive too late and discovered that M'Shen had done as she was bid. A hunt followed through the near-deserted Nightfall as Talos hunted down the vicious half-Neverborn. His visions guided him to where she was hidden on the flagship and the two fought.

The duel ended with the brutalised remains of M'Shen evaporating into the Nightfall's flooring. And Talos found himself shocked by his sheer rage. It was the darkness that hid in the souls of all Night Lords that had threatened to overtake him and Talos found himself redoubled in combating this vice. Following Sevatar's to the Eye, many viewed Talos as a worthy successor to their father's will and the one to heal the rift within the Legion. And he was, to the point where he is one of the few Night Lords to claim Sainthood in the eyes of His Church, having fallen in battle against a Black Crusade led by a Dark Angel warlord.

* * *

 **Homeworld**

Nostramo and its growth as a world under the Eighth Legion's rule represents the duality of the Night Lords all too well. Once it was a nightmare of a world to live upon. While not a Death World, it was ruled by petty tyrants that kept many of the resources of the world to themselves. That was until the Konrad Curze's rise to power and forced the world into a semblance of safety and stability. As of M41 the world is considered to be one of the more secure and well-ordered worlds in the Imperium. The Night Lords have kept a firm grip on the world, imposing order and strict, unforgiving law. Gang violence does tend to crop up every few centuries in the deep underhives, but rarely does it require the attention of the Arbites as Night Lord Neophytes are typically despatched to deal with the criminal scum. After all, where better to learn Imperial Law and how to enforce it than on Nostramo.

An oddity is that a great number of Rogue Traders seem to be Nostramo-born. Perhaps this is due to the historically deep connections to interstellar trade that the world has, renewed since the world was integrated into the Imperium. Perhaps it is because the world has remained in physical darkness and many look skyward, perhaps looking for a life not sequestered in the planet's many manufactoria or living under the strict rule of the Night Lords. Some wish to create their own destiny and be their own masters and Rogue Traders is one of those paths.

Due to being a Legion homeworld Nostramo is spared the Imperial Tithe, including forming an Imperial Guard regiment, as all resources are devoted to the Legion. Unlike several other Legion homeworlds, the home of the Night Lords has suffered very little in terms of attack from traitor warbands. This is due to the Legion's reputation and the subtle defences erected across the planet. The only time a traitor warband attacked Nostramo was in M36 during the Age of Apostasy. A Salamanders warband led by Atok Abidemi took advantage of the chaos caused by the rampant warp storms and Vandire's Reign of Blood, and raided deep into the Ultima Segmentum, pillaging and burning a dozen worlds before the Chaos warlord set his sights on the homeworld of his Legion's detested rivals since Khaaratan.

The Salamanders warband, numbering over near four hundred Chaos Space Marines with millions of cultists, attacked Nostramo. The VIII was spread thin across the Imperium, attempting to suppress the seemingly endless number of rebellions and uprisings that flared up. While the Eighth Legion was vital in preventing the Imperium's collapse, they inadvertently left their homeworld's defences undermanned. By tradition there would be a thousand Night Lords overseeing the security of Nostramo, but days before Abidemi's assault, a nearby star system erupted into mass rebellion. It was a Forge World and the Night Lord Captain Terek led nine hundred legionnaires to the Forge World to defeat the tech-heresy before the traitor tech-priests secured a Titan god-machine. This left a mere hundred Night Lords, plus the Arbites, the small but well-equipped PDF, and a couple hundred Aspirants. The loyalist forces were led by Sergeant Halker, a veteran of a hundred campaigns, and when Nostramo's augur arrays detected the encroaching Salamander fleet.

The Salamanders, confident in victory over the less numerous loyalists, landed in Nostramo Quintus and made way to the fortress-monastery. Halker was forced to concentrate his legionnaires in the Fortress of Shadows, but did despatch several squads to prey on the traitors, especially their cultists, ensuring that they learned to fear the Night Haunter's sons rather than their own drake lords. For weeks Abidemi's Salamanders advanced towards the Fortress, but even the common citizenry of Nostramo took to guerrilla warfare, delaying and chipping away at Abidemi's forces.

As ammunition ran dry and energy reserves lowered, Halker readied his brothers for a final foray against the traitors. But moments prior to the final assault, Captain Terek arrived from the successful campaign on the Forge World, and tore into the traitor ranks, reaching and slaughtering Abidemi. Four hundred Salamanders and several million cultists landed on Nostramo. None left it alive. Their corpses were piled into decrepit cargo transports and hurled into Nostramo's weak sun. Halker was rewarded with the rank of Void Stalker, a symbolic rank always given to the ranking sergeant within the Legion and tasked with some of the more vital assignments to undertake, whether it be commanding the homeworld's defence, or leading Terror Squads deep into enemy territory.

 **Organisation**

Konrad Curze knew of his oncoming death at the hands of M'Shen and so planned that his sons could survive his death - once their rage had subsided. Since then the VIII has monitored the Imperium, guaranteeing that any who might betray the Imperium would do so with fear of a Night Lord reprisal. Of course, the sheer size of the Imperium makes it difficult for the Night Lords to keep to their duty and so have broken into various companies; dispensing justice and raining fear on disloyal worlds, pirate fleets and renegade forts.

At the highest of the chain of command is the Night Prince, the Legion Master of the Eight. It is he that commands the whole Legion, and whose word is absolute among the Night Lords. The dictates of the Night Prince are held in the same regard of that of the Lord of Shadows and is treated with the same amount of reverence. Second to him are the Kyroptera, an advisory council of captains whose origins dates back to the days of the Great Crusade. It is from their number that the next Night Prince is chosen when the previous holder dies in battle. Many of the chosen need to find a balance to which to control his kin, as doubt could lead to a wayward path which the Night Lords may not escape a second time.

* * *

The Exorcists

The Ecclesiarchy and the Inquisition, specifically the Word Bearers and the Ordo Malleus, have long held misgivings towards the Night Lords due to how close they brushed with Chaos in the closing days of the Sanguinary Heresy. The Inquisition is a secretive all-powerful branch of the Imperial government, with only the barest of oversight from the High Lords, and their powerbase is nearly unrivaled in the Emperor's Realm. It is no surprise that this organisation, which has had a history of its own of corruption and excessive brutality, is wary of the Night Lords for they represent a moral and philosophical threat to them. Many Legions distrust or dislike the Inquisition, the only exception being the Alpha Legion who work hand-in-hand with the Holy Ordos to combat the various threats assailing Mankind.

While the Word Bearers are thankful to the Night Lords for aiding their escape from the Ruinstorm, they are still hesitant about their Nostraman cousins for one major reason: the _Grimoire Umbra Noctis_. The _Grimoire_ is considered a dangerous tome by the Legion of the Faithful, who see it as gateway to Chaos, for the methods inscribed on its pages, while effective in combating the Archenemy, are considered damnable and, on occasion, heretical. The most controversial doctrine found within the _Grimoire_ hails from the line, _"To combat evil, one must become evil incarnate."_ This led to the formation of the Exorcists, the daemon-hunters of the VIII. Formed in late-M32 in the wake of the Black Crusade of Maulgrehn the Reaver, the Exorcists were the Night Lords' solution to more effectively combating daemons and avoiding the possibility of corruption, an attempt to mimic the Ordo Malleus' Chamber Militant. But while the Grey Knights had the inherent protection and purity provided by the Emperor's Gift, the Night Lords held no such protection other than standard loyalty and belief in the Emperor available to all the Legiones Astartes, and as the Heresy proved that even Space Marines are corruptible.

Legionnaires from all Nine Loyal Legions have fallen to Chaos throughout the years, even some from the devout XVII, so the Night Lords knew they must take extraordinary measures and new concepts to prevent corruption within their daemonhunters. The Legion Master of the time, the ancient Kellendvar the Headsman, (one of the last Night Lords remaining to have fought beside his gene-sire), arranged assistance from radical elements of both the Inquisition and the Ecclesiarchy. A special fortress, the Basilica Malefex, was constructed by the Adeptus Mechanicus after Kellendvar called in favours and fealty of several Forge Worlds, its very structure embedded with runes of protection and banishment to complement the vast weapon emplacements and defence platforms bristling about its goliath size. Advisors from the Thousand Sons were asked to come and did so gladly, wishing for the initiative to succeed and to gain potential knowledge from the experiments. The Ordo Malleus, despite their misgivings about the VIII and detesting what they sought to create, despatched a squad of Grey Knights to monitor and train those raised to Exorcist.

The initial group of legionnaires to become Exorcists were a hundred Astartes, ranging from newly-raised battle-brothers to battle-scarred veterans. Volunteers only, they were made aware of the risk that was posed. None hesitated to step forward and pledge themselves to the program. With the Basilica Malefex's heart, a special chamber further warded with Nostraman script and blessed runes was located and it was here that the experiments began. One by one each volunteer was brought into the chamber and a minor rift to the warp was opened and a minor daemon was summoned. The daemon possessed the legionnaire and for twelve hours the Neverborn resided in the flesh of the Nostraman. At the end of the twelve hours the daemon was banished and the legionnaire was judged. Most became crippled by the ordeal, their bodies and soul ravaged by the daemon's presence, most falling into a comatose state and given the Emperor's Mercy as a kindness. Some exhibited wildly erratic and violent behaviour and were executed before they could break their restraints, their gene-seed incinerated so as to prevent any potential contamination. A handful of battle-brothers were unable to be cleansed of the daemon as the Neverborn had rooted itself too deep. These unlucky few were cut down and burned by the attending Grey Knights, the ashes and charred remains stored for study on Titan.

Out of the hundred legionnaires, only thirty-two endured the process and ended the experiment with their mind intact. These thirty-two legionnaires, due to once being a daemonhost and the warp-creature forcibly expelled from their flesh, are now immune to Chaos physical possession and are seen as abominations by the Ruinous Powers, according to captured traitors. These Astartes were trained by the Knights of Titan to combat the Primordial Annihilator in all its forms and once their training of one year had been completed the silver Astartes departed, never to return to the Basilisca Malefex. Though not as effective as their Grey Knight cousins, as none of the Exorcists are psykers nor empowered with the Emperor's Gift, these Night Lord daemon-hunters have proven their worth to the VIII and the Imperium as a whole time and time again. Due to the high cost in both lives and resources, the Night Lord Exorcists never number more a couple of hundred and act largely independently of the rest of the Legion, commanded only by the Lord Banisher of the Exorcists, the Kyroptera and the Night Prince.

* * *

 **Combat Doctrine**

 _"Again and again I hear our fallen kin prattle on with treacherous words, 'Death to the False Emperor!' or some other damned chorus to whatever daemon they preach as a god. How tiresome, this endless refrain of their prayers. And yet… they have the audacity to call us slaves as if they don't lope about hoping for the favour of daemons and parasites. How tiresome indeed._

 _Well, my brothers, we can count on their infantile hate. All we need to do is to pluck a few outriders from their horde and make them scream, and that's when the indignation begins. The cries of outrage that we broke some 'honour' - as if such creatures have it. Greater still is when the indignation becomes unease and that becomes fear. Then our fallen kin remember. They remember who caused their nightmares during the Heresy and who causes them still. It is we who rule the night for are born in it and embrace it as a shield against the taint of Chaos. Remember our father's justice and never stray from his path: lest I add your skin to my throne. Ave Dominus Vox!"_ \- Quote attributed to Night Prince Kain of the Eighth Legion, M41.

* * *

Terror, fear and justice. These three things make up what it means to be a Night Lord. Konrad Curze knew this well from his pacification of Nostromo - though it weighed heavily upon him. Fear can break a man in more ways than even the body could be broken and this is something Curze taught his sons. His sacrifice acts as a reminder to never let it go too far, lest they become the very thing they fight against, and to this day the Night Lords ensure that they never let their killing lust control them.

That said, one would be forgiven in thinking that the Night Lords have yet to let go of this trait as they do their duty to the Emperor with brutal efficiency. Terror Squads will often penetrate enemy lines and wreak fear and unease among the unsuspecting. The Night Lords worry many for these giants move with a gait that should not be possible for something of their transhuman size. Whatever art the Night Lords learned to carry themselves with such unsuspecting air is a secret only they know. The VIII is the only Loyalist Legion to fully deploy the Mk. VI Haunter-pattern power armour, which incorporated more efficient internal systems where power-routing and auto-senses were concerned. Power systems were given back-up redundancies with no increase in weight, while both olfactory and auditory sensors were improved. Additionally, the armour featured the best stealth capabilities of all power armour marks so far designed and employed by the Legiones Astartes. While other Loyalist Legions have some of the Mk. VI, the Night Lords use it extensively, making it the default armour of the Eighth Legion.

The Night Lords are precise when it comes to whom they hunt - they rarely go for their enemy leader first. They pick away at their foes, allowing fear to seep in and to take reason from their foes, prioritising eliminating veteran squads and those stationed at key outposts. Then comes the lieutenants and minor warlords and champions, those key to the chain of command, and this often when the foes begins to panic. After all, what better way to humble their foe then to make them think that even the shadows would come alive and take them. That said, the Night Lords have abandoned the sadistic ways of the Heresy, once they may have dragged such tactics out for days but now they work to supreme efficiency to purge their foes and save the innocent.

* * *

Night Prince Kain, Warden of the Dark

The child that rose to the ranks of Night Prince was not some great and upcoming noble child or heir to one of the few underhive gangs. The child that was Kain Nos'Goth was a simple street urchin born in the depths of Nostramo. What set him apart was that Kain always claimed that he felt an air of destiny about him - perhaps this was some divine act or simple a jest from the dark-humoured Night Prince - but whatever the case, the street urchin was born with a fire inside him. One that longed to push above and beyond the squalor of Nostramo. It was the raw determination that caught the eye of Moebius, the Abyss-Watcher that found him, and it was this fire that began his path to the Night Lords.

Kain learned quickly on the efficiency of murder and took to the terror tactics of Curze with a predator's pleasure. This earned him the admiration of his more overzealous brothers but it was his sense of humour that earned him the admiration of all. Kain was quick to jest, and laughed in the face of xenos and heretics alike. And soon, he found himself a Captain of the Second Company with many whispering that he would soon rise beyond even that. That was, until the bloodlust set in, and Kain crossed the line of humorous audacity to dark shame. None know what led to Kain taking the Red Hands but all knew it was a death sentence. Many noted that shame drove Kain to greater acts of audacity, inviting death in all its forms and yet he continued. More still, he thrived.

Fate, it seemed, would not be denied and over the many years of service as a Red Hand Kain found himself taken back into the ranks of the Night Lords, forgiven by Voradious, the then ruling Night Prince, and back as Captain of the Second Company. Now, however, there was a change in Kain. He laughed and joked as he always did but there was a… melancholy about him - he had seen all sides of the Night Lords in his own life, the highs and the lows. This taught him much about both himself and his brothers around him and Kain drove himself to greater acts of terror against all threats to the Imperium. And then, Voradious fell to the claws of a Hive Tyrant - a death that was avenged by Kain himself, who jammed his power claw so far into the monster's skull, its xenos skull split in two.

After the battle, the Kyroptera all agreed that Kain was to be the next Night Prince. Who better to act as warden and lord of the Night Lords than the man who had faced his own shame and came out stronger. Kain Nos'Goth now rules the Night Lords, armed with Konrad's own _Mercy_ and _Forgiveness_ and under Kain's frequent use they have tasted the blood of all who defy the Imperium and the Eighth Legion.

* * *

 **Beliefs**

* * *

The Red Hands, Mark of the Damned

One of the few traditions that the Primarch allowed to survive the bloody purge of his home and to be carried on into the ranks of the Legion was that of the Red Hands as a sign of shame. To the brute gangs of Nostramo the sign of red hands was seen as the ultimate sin, a death sentence born of a crime that not even a Nostramo crime lord could forget or forgive. What better form of belittling to the Night Lords than having to carry a reminder of their homeworld back when it was at its primal viciousness. To the Night Lords now, it is often used to mark those that skirt the line of heresy; most likely due to delving too deep into their primogenitor's _Scriptures of the Flayed_ , a large and integral part of the _Grimoire Umbra Noctis_.

Once marked, only death or the Primarch's forgiveness can atone the Red Hands of their shame, the Night Prince inheriting their gene-sire's authority to condemn and forgive. Many of the Red Hands view their punishment as just and often throw themselves into the dangerous warzones they are cast into. Often the Red Hands can be found hunting the most violent and accursed of traitors; viewing those damned foes worthy to die against. This is due to the madness of the Red Hands, experiencing the similar euphoric bloodlust that drove Curze during his darkest days prior to becoming King of Nostramo. Despite this, there are cases of Night Lords being redeemed from the Red Hands, their current Legion Master being a prime example, for they had survived madness and battle before finding redemption. Those that fall are treated with the greatest honours as, despite their misgivings, they longed to follow the example of the Lord of Shadows.

* * *

The Night Lords are an odd mixture to their cousins as they skirt the line of loyalty and heresy with disturbing frequency, though the Night Lords do not see it as so. Like their own Primarch, they are both figures of inspiration and justice, as well as dread. The best among the most vaunted imaginable, whose presence alone can help turn the tide, while at their worst the Night Lords can be cursed as monsters not unlike their traitor kin. One could say that out of all the Legions, it is the Night Lords that reflect their father the most in the end. The monster and the man. Justice can be gained but not through bloodlust or fear, only through inspiration and respect. Curze's sacrifice resonated throughout the ages and the Night Lords have every intention to never give into their bloodlust again - even for a righteous cause.

The Heresy taught the Night Lords much of the Great Enemy. It would be lie to say that the Night Lords didn't relish in that knowledge, that from Curze's _Grimoire_ they know how best to break the corrupt. Denying combat to a warrior of Khorne, stagnating a servant of Tzeentch, taking pleasure from a slave to Slaanesh and enforcing change upon worker of Nurgle. The Night Lords learned over their bitter-fought campaigns during the Heresy how best to take heart from all the servants of Chaos - something that troubles the likes of the Word Bearers. Many fear that this dark knowledge could cause the fall of the Night Lords but any that show signs of corruption are cast to the Red Hands or killed outright. Ironically, despite their animosity with the Word Bearers, the Night Lords could be the only Legion to match the Urizen's sons with their zeal for hunting down the corrupt.

To them Chaos is the source of all corruption and some even argue that Nostramo's former state was due to the actions of Chaos as human degeneracy benefits the Ruinous Powers more so than any power and therefore they are at fault for all sin, or so the Imperial Church teaches. Of course, the Night Lords are aware that it is the darkness and greed within humanity's souls that gives the Four Fell Kings their power and they seek to quash this: by uprooting the problem at its roots. This zeal has led to a complicated relationship with the Inquisition; some among the Inquisition see the Night Lords as heretics, while others approve at how thorough their destruction of the forces of Chaos can be. As for the general populace, the Night Lords are seen as saints similar to the likes of the World Eaters and Iron Warriors. After all, the Night Lords go to great pains to save the innocent; viewing Imperial citizens as the Imperium's soul and to the Night Lords to let the innocent suffer at the hands of the damned is the greatest sin of them all.

As for worship of the God-Emperor, the Night Lords likewise have a mixed relation. They view the Emperor as the pinnacle of what a man could be and the greatest judge of Mankind. That said, they do not worship him like a god; something which has caused complications to the likes of the Word Bearers. Though to them, the worship of the Emperor is a necessity, as it is far more preferable for humanity to worship the Justicar of the species above all rather than the Dark Powers of Ruin. Better to secure Mankind's soul to a safer warden then the whims of Daemon Gods.

 **Recruitment and Gene-seed**

 _"Ghouls we were once called. Corpse-eaters and ghosts. I remember the slander and the jeering but Curze never let it distract him. Never let it mock him. He accepted the mockery, and turned against them. Vulkan, Leman, Sanguinius and the rest; those are the ones who called us monsters, they the traitor and the heretic, the monster and the deceiver._

 _Ghosts were what we were called and ghosts are what we became. Watchers in the darkness, where traitor eyes cannot pierce. They do not see us but we see them. No matter the taint or the bloodline: White Scar, Iron Hand or even the Angel Fallen's get. If you have the audacity to prey on the weak and noble, to bring death to our gates like the lost and damned children you are then it is us, the ghosts, that shall drag you into the darkness._

 _And there, true fear will make itself known."_ \- Quote attributed to War-Sage Malcharion of the Eighth Tenth's Company to the Warband of the Grinning Angel during the Hunt of Whispers, over the screams of their own dying brothers.

* * *

An oddity among the Night Lords is the condition of the gene-seed as it is surprisingly pure, having not degraded over the years since the Heresy. Many wonder as to why this is the case but none have found the answer; and it is a secret the Night Lords do not intend to share. That said, despite the genetic purity of the Night Haunter's line, there are still some subtle mutation to his kin. Firstly, all Night Lords gain pitch black eyes that can see through the darkest void and they sport unnaturally pale skin. Initially, this was thought to be due to Aspirants raising on Nostramo but since the Night Lords have explored other worlds for Aspirants, the mutation remains unchanged. Secondly, some among the Night Lords will gain the same future-scrying madness of their forefather; these 'Prophets' are often taken into the ranks of Abyss-Watchers; the chaplains and psykers of the Night Lords.

As stated earlier, many recruits come from Nostramo; this being a conscious decision by the Night Lords as they are hesitant of outside blood in their ranks. But the Night Lords have indeed broadened their choices in Aspirants the last few centuries. This was due to sheer pragmatism, as Legion casualties have been high as of late and the Night Lords do not wish to harvest all of Nostramo's potential Aspirants for risk of tampering with the stable and healthy gene-pool. Many surrounding Hive Worlds have found themselves patrolled by Night Lords looking for Aspirants in their gutters and alleys, hunting through the underhive for promising recruits; often from gangers and on occasion those that live elsewhere in the hive, whether it be a mid-spire worker's child to a noble lord's heir. The Night Lords believe that this variety brings a balance to the Legion's choler and to help it remain on the path it has been set upon since their father's death.

* * *

The Abyss-Watchers, Prophets of the VIII

Like all of the Emperor's sons, Konrad Curze carried a gift - or in the eyes of some a curse - born from simply being made from a part of His Flesh. For mere moments, Curze can pierce the veil of time itself and see a half-viewable haze of what might come to pass. This dangerous and powerful affliction led to the Night Haunter and his Legion being the bane of Sanguinius' plans during the Heresy. As Curze inherited this gift from his father, so too do some of his sons likewise gain this power to look through time and its multiple divergences and possibilities. They gained the name Abyss-Watchers - a title born of semi-omniscience gaze into fate itself.

The key difference between the Primarch and his Prophets is that his sons lack a Primarch's endurance to such visions, and are both a danger to themselves and their fellow Night Lords when the madness of a vision afflicts them. In fact, their muttered gibbers are so unsettling that it is not uncommon for Night Lords to project the gibbering across the vox to intimidate their foes - a most effective tactic. It takes many years for the Librarians of the VIII to master their abilities to the point where they retain self-control but that veterans Abyss-Watchers are dangerous assets to the Eighth Legion. Made more so, by the fact that the warp cannot tamper with their gift - but they can alter the vision's outcome. Greatest among the Time-Streams was Talos, one of Konrad's inner court and a Holy Saint - a rare title for the borderline-heretical Night Lords - and it is his example that the Abyss-Watchers wish to emulate; to become so great with their gift, that they can even see where their enemies tread before the foe knows.

* * *

 **Battle-Cry**

The Eighth Legion does not often shout out their intentions when marching to war. They see it as useless given their Legion's tactics and instead often prefer to let their victims speak of their presence. The death cries of those caught in the Night Lords' claws are often projected into the vox, their mewls of pain acting as a sign of what suffering is to come. It is only when the morale of their foes is at its breaking point do they declare themselves. Cries of _"Ave Dominus Nox!"_ and _"Death in the dark is all you deserve!_ " are cried as the Night Lords reap a bloody tally against the Imperium's foes.

* * *

 _I am he who walks unseen within the cracks of hell, beside me are my brothers and they are akin to corpses. We stalk among the dark and the damned like the vengeful ghosts that we are, remembering the time that the Pinnacle Justicar once walked among us. My memories are as fleeting as the lives I take but I know I am not a man anymore. This place makes a mockery of men, and turns us into things best left forgotten._

 _I am he who walks unseen; knowing that the things in this hell see me as a chess piece to be moved but my cause is too righteous for them. By their standards I am an abomination, a creature warped by their foul gods but still refuses to bow and scrape to them. They have tried to deceive and trick but my glaive finds out their truth. Once I hunted human and xenos but now it seems Neverborn are my prey. They curse me in the shadows, warning my brothers of the hatred that stirs within; the Dark Seeker, Hunter of Kor'goth, Slayer of the Husk King._

 _I am he who walks unseen and delights as I hear the screams of traitors as I sink my teeth into their neck and carve them apart with my glaive. They deny true combat, I cannot remember the last time I felt satisfaction. Only rage remains in my heart as I stare across the void. I have killed men with hands of hot molten, forged by their rage. I have seen the depths of rot, and split open a beast claiming to be born among a plague of rats. I have heard many call me a monster more damned then them but I have never forgotten why I hunt._

 _For justice of my father._

 _I am he who walks unseen, leaving only corpses for the crows in my wake..._

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed my portrayal of Konrad and the Night Lords. And thanks again to the input of Tanner, in particular with the creation of the Exorcists and for insuring the quality of this fic. Please remember to leave a review as it always helps and I hope you have a good day!.


	9. Index Astartes: Blood Angels

**Blood Angels: Arch-Traitors of the Primordial Annihilator**

 _Before their fall to Chaos, the Blood Angels were once seen as the noblest of the Emperor's Legions. Sanguinius, the Golden Warrior of Baal, the Angel of Blood, was an icon of devotion in the form of a winged angel as if from ancient legend and the Emperor's dream made flesh. Their light was blinding and held hope for all those under the belief that Mankind would never be free of the clutches of the Long Night. Yet the Ruinous Powers were fearful of the Ninth Primarch and his role to play in the Emperor's vision, and therefore sunk their twisted claws into Sanguinius' soul, warping his very nature and dreams into cynicism and cruel ambition. In time the Dark Gods blinded the Angel to the Emperor's Light and set the stage for the death of Unity. Falling into darkness, his sons followed him loyally, basking in the powers and prestige he reaped then being assailed by hatred and disgust by their fellow traitors in the rebellion's aftermath. With their gene-sire no longer there to lead them, having paid the ultimate price when confronting his father, they now are trapped in hell debased by even their own. Many cry out for the return of their dark father, while those once closest to him consider him a false idol. Yet this has not halted their dark ambitions, nor their belief that one day Sanguinius - or something equal to his measure - will return and drag the universe kicking and screaming into the blessed unholy fold of the Primordial Truth._

* * *

 **Origins**

The strength of Chaos has always been its capacity for deceit. Though the Dark Gods often act petulant, delighting in casting down the foolish and raising up the mighty on the simplest of whims, they are also beings of a great patience and vast malevolence. The ebb and flow of time means nothing to them. They do not bow to the laws of the Universe and as such their schemes spread across eternity, waiting for the time of their undisputed dominance in the galaxy. This is always to be remembered by those who seek to battle the darkness, as when looking upon a blood-soaked killer of Khorne or a megalomaniac slave of Tzeentch, it can be difficult to remember this fact.

In the ten thousand years that have passed since the Emperor was confined to the Golden Throne and the Angel Fallen fell to His fiery blade, the echoes of this war still remain. It is a testament to the Dark Gods, showing that they are not merely some great warp-bloated nightmare but beings of dark intelligence that delight in the games of gods and mortals. Many among the Holy Ordos would have any and all record of the Unholy Ninth and their dark primogenitor erased, and only the inner circles of the Inquisition and the High Lords of Terra may look upon the sanctified texts thrice-purified and thrice-cursed texts detailing Sanguinius' past. Very few texts have been left untouched that detail the Arch-Renegade's origins, but with what little remains, complemented by writings of his own brother, the Holy and Blessed Lorgar Aurelian, the Inquisition have managed to piece together a comprehensive look into the past of the greatest primarch who became the most bitter foe.

During the many years of the Long Night, the Dark Gods used their malign influence to corrupt the fabric of real-space, corrupting Mankind to their own whim. The plague of rampant mutation was an example of this, as during the Age of Strife children on thousands of worlds were often born foul of body and of mind. The rise of psykers was another example of this, delighting the Primordial Annihilator as these souls burned bright in the Immaterium and were akin to gateways into the Materium for which daemons could possess and influence. Humanity's foolishness led many to believe that mutation was a sign of a corrupt character but very few knew during that age of ignorance and struggle that mutation was also a result of environmental conditions.

Baal was an example of how dangerous and insidious the threat of mutation could truly be, as Baal was once a prosperous world, with two majestic moons in orbit which like the world of Baal itself could also support human life with ease. But, as is in the nature of the human species, a great war raged across the Tri-Worlds of Baal. It has long been theorized by some Inquisitors that this was instigated by the foul powers of the warp - though its actual cause has been lost to the sands of time.

Ancient weapons of biological contagions, chemical gases, and atomic warheads were used en masse, scouring the worlds of the Baal System of prosperity and beauty, their biospheres and great cities cast down to little more than ruin. The Baalite peoples were now reduced to brutal tribes, chief among them were the Blood on Baal Secundus. The environmental fallout caused by the great weapons led to mutation becoming a pandemic on the Tri-Worlds, and mutant tribes soon began to thrive in the ruins of Baal and its moons. The human clans were forced to wear chem-suits to survive walking the land of Baal, forever on the lookout for their beastly and violent neighbors. As the years dragged on, Baal's human population diminished, to the point where their extinction seemed inevitable in but a handful of generations.

No doubt it was the design of the Dark Gods that Sanguinius, Ninth Son of the God-Emperor of Mankind, was cast here. Where better to temper a useful blade than a world of monsters. Sanguinius' childhood is something that the Holy Inquisition knows little about, and even his own brothers - Lorgar and Magnus - had difficulty deciphering truth out of myth. The works of Jecho, a mad Baalite captive, and his book _Blood of the Angel_ has given the Inquisition something of a clear picture into Sanguinius' childhood on Baal.

His story, at first, does not seem that dissimilar to the stories of all his brothers. Courage and greatness seemed to be the only outcome for his life, as expected of a primarch, and yet if one was to delve deeper into the unholy text, one can make out the mark of ruin that was placed upon Sanguinius, and the corruption that beat within his chest.

It was on the moon Baal Secundus that Sanguinius landed upon and though no more than a child, he bore his angelic wings - his curse and his reminder - those great wings that soon would be the stuff of Mankind's nightmares. It was the great tribe, the Blood, that found Sanguinius' pod, and they recognised this great technology. They had seen the ruins of their bygone era and knew that this 'star-child' had come from a civilization greater than theirs. Some argued that the babe should be killed - and the galaxy would wish that they had - while others argued that the child from the stars was still just a child, and barring his wings the demigod child was of pure lineage unaffected by obvious mutation. And so, the more foolish among them won the argument and the child was spared.

The Blood took Sanguinius in, taking into the safety of their own settlement, and there the elders of the Blood declared this child as one of their own, after all such a pure creature should not be damned to jaws of the mutants. Some among the Blood were worried by the implications of Sanguinius' wings - as if he was not a mutant then what was he? But those fears were quashed by the sheer presence of the child-primarch, Sanguinius' very presence seemed to calm these fears; a sign that the Emperor built his godling sons well, as if not for this then Sanguinius would no doubt have been killed in his youth.

Sanguinius grew among the Blood, and reached his adulthood in just over a year, and his growth continued beyond that much to the amazement of his nomadic people. He was taught the story of Baal's past through the folktales and dances of the Blood, as well as the Blood's Creed; to abhor the mutant in all its forms. While Sanguinius knew these teachings by heart, doubt had already begun to poison the Ninth Son's heart. He had wings and while the Blood had grown past concerns of their implications, Sanguinius had not. Sanguinius feared that he had more in common with the beasts of Baal than he did with the people that adopted him.

This paranoia began to make itself known to Sanguinius as he began to join the raids of the Blood against the mutants of Baal, fighting against the savage tide that despised the Blood for not being born as malformed and hate-filled as them. This was where the young primarch began to learn the ways of warfare, his demigod strength and tactical mind becoming great assets to the Blood as entire hordes of mutants would rather flee than face the Angel of Blood's might. Ambition sparked within the Angel's hearts: he could not only protect his home but the rest of Baal's worlds too. Sanguinius began to believe that there were still survivors on the other two of Baal's worlds.

A desire to purge the mutant taint from the Tri-Worlds became Sanguinius' driving mission, one that the Blood became attached to. To them if there was any creature capable of actually stopping the mutant hordes of Baal and saving their home, it would be this angel from the stars. And so, Sanguinius began to plan his long campaign to rally the remaining tribes around him and to end the mutants of Baal - if only to prove he had no relation to those beasts.

* * *

 _The mutant snarled in rage, salvia spilling everywhere from its debased jaws. The creature was three times the size of a man, with a thick neck and swollen skull. Fat rolled down covering one of its eyes, and it waved atrophied limbs in rage as it tore through the pack of Blood that struggled to bring it down. Sanguinius stared at it and a dark look came across his face, a rage that knew no bounds. And with a snarl he swung the thick shaft of sharpened iron he was armed with, shattering the mutant's leg. It bellowed in anger as it fell to the ground, and looked up at its killer._

 _Its remaining eye was filled with a deep sadness, one born of a life of misery and upon looking at it one may have thought that its killer would be merciful. A quick slice across its would have been painless but Sanguinius felt more rage at this expression, and swung his own weapon down with great strength. It took three blows to cave-in the mutant's thick skull, and as brain matter leaked from its ruined head, Sanguinius looked at its corpse._

 _Did it look at him that way because it recognised a sibling monster? It saw a fellow mutant taking up arms against its own and could not comprehend this betrayal? No, that was the talk of fools and the Blood were not fools, the tribe would have killed him if he shared blood with these… freaks. His wings were not mutation but purity, a sign of a better future. A sign that he was meant for greater things. Sanguinius looked to the skies and wondered if the one who he could call father would come and explain to him why he gave him wings. Until then, Baal's safety would be the Angel's chief concern._

* * *

Sanguinius' crusade soon erupted over all of Baal Secundus. To begin with only the Blood followed the Angel of Baal in his campaign against the hordes of mutants, but soon the other tribes heard of the Angel's plan to wipe the flesh-changed from the worlds of Baal and they banded together under the Angel's banner. With the pure humans united the hordes of Baal Secundus were forced on the back foot. Furthermore, Sanguinius' intellect meant he knew how to fix and repair the moon's long-neglected infrastructure and soon even primitive voidships were constructed to reconnect the three worlds, as well as ancient guns left by Baal's first civilization. Soon tanks and armoured cars churned alongside Sanguinius' army of tribes, each man using a gun.

So Sanguinius' armies were able to traverse to both Baal and Baal Primus to continue the Angel's crusade to unite all three worlds under his banner. As more of the Tri-Worlds fell under his domain, Sanguinius began a program of intensive decontamination, ordering contaminants and radiation that spawned the many monsters that plagued the world to be scrubbed and filtered, using the radiation used to fuel rad-weapons made by his own order of tech-priests - the forefathers of Sanguinius' Dark Mechanicus. With the surface being cleansed and reclaimed the human tribes that hid below Baal returned to the surface to join the Angel's empire of purity.

However, when Sanguinius looked upon them he found them wanting, they had evolved to survive in the dark, and Sanguinius, perturbed by their implication, ordered their execution. The Blood eagerly carried out the sentence for their demigod king, and those whom Sanguinius sought to save were murdered due to his insecurity. The other tribes did not halt these executions, fooling themselves into believing that Sanguinius was right and that those settlers of Baal were mutants.

Sanguinius ruled over the Tri-Worlds like a king and despite that dark mark on his reign he was loved by all the peoples. After all, it was him that had erased the mutant taint and connected all three of the worlds back together again. It was then during the seventh year of his reign that Sanguinius met with his father: the Emperor of Mankind.

During the Great Crusade, the Emperor had scoured the stars for His missing sons and had begun to find them all one by one. He reunited them with the Legions made in their image. Oddly enough, Sanguinius knew of his father's coming and awaited him eagerly. Many believe that this was due to his own fear of what he was as well as the answer to that question that had plagued Sanguinius mind had finally arrived.

The Emperor came at the head of His great fleet, and met His son across the plains in which the Blood had found him. There the two spoke in private of Mankind's place in the stars, and at the conclusion of their talks the Master of Mankind introduced Sanguinius to the Ninth Legion who had long awaited him. Other than that what else they spoke is something of speculation as there are no recordings of their conversation. What can be said is this, if Sanguinius did ask his father why he had wings, the answer dissatisfied him.

Something which would have dark consequences for not only the Great Crusade but the whole of Mankind in the days to come...

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"Brotherhood is all when it comes to war, my sons. I learned that on the plains of Baal for if you cannot trust the man next to you then you are doomed to fail. And while we are bred for warfare, we shall become greater than mere weapons. I see the determination in your eyes to make a better universe and that gives me strength. Together, the Legiones Astartes shall purge the universe of all its taint for a better tomorrow. For the Emperor!"_ \- Sanguinius, Primarch of the Ninth Legion, upon meeting the Blood Angels.

* * *

With that Sanguinius was brought into the fold of the Imperium, taking his part in the Emperor's grand plans for Humanity. The Emperor introduced Sanguinius to his Legion, the sons made in the Angel's image, Sanguinius delighted in his sons and they him; for Sanguinius saw a loyal Legion of sons that would ensure he never felt alone, and to the Blood Angels they saw Mankind's pinnacle, something that even Horus could not match. The Three Hundred Companies of the Blood Angels swore a blood-oath to their father and would prove that loyalty countless times in the years to follow.

Of course, it was only natural for the sons of such a leader to make themselves known in the Great Crusade. After unification with their father the Blood Angels showed their true potential. Many worlds fell to the ordered fury of the Ninth Legion and the keen mind of Sanguinius. Joint ventures with other Legions were common and friendly - by Space Marine standards - and entire races of xenos and sub-strands of humanity were exterminated. And to those worlds that submitted themselves to the Emperor's Light, the Blood Angels ensured that the diplomacy surrounding compliance was effective and fair so not to alienate the new subjects of the Imperium.

As for the Three Hundred Companies, many Aspirants were taken from Baal itself. And unlike many of the Legions, Sanguinius seemed to shun the Terran-born, to the point where he, in private, beseeched the Emperor if he could deny any more Terran-born or at least make his own pick of where the Aspirants from Terra are taken from. Perhaps to make the self-conscious Sanguinius to feel comfortable, the Emperor granted his request. And so, many of the Terran-born were taken from the irradiated lands of Terra, and joined the ranks of the Ninth Legion. Sanguinius accepted the out-casted tribes from Terra, raising them to the rank of legionnaire. This bred a strain of loyalty that worried some, as these Aspirants seemed to worship the Angel of Baal more than the Emperor Himself.

With Sanguinius being the one to dictate where Aspirants were taken from, the size of the Blood Angels began to steadily grow, though it would never match the immense size of the Iron Warriors, the Word Bearers or especially the Ultramarines - and as stated above, many feared the growing loyalty of these Aspirants to their gene-sire that eclipsed loyalty to the Master of Mankind. Though some Aspirants were taken from Terra, and would be until the dying days of the Great Crusade, a vast majority of the Ninth hailed from the Tri-Worlds of Baal.

Worse still, was that while not finding inner peace, Sanguinius became more concerned with the nature of his wings. The Emperor proclaimed the universe godless, and yet serving him was an angel. The Imperial Truth proclaimed state atheism yet the Word Bearers were allowed to continue and preach their faith that the Master of Mankind was a god. Sanguinius found the hypocrisy toxic, and was one of the few things he disagreed with his father on. Furthermore, not only was Sanguinius wracked with his own burden but so too were his sons.

It seemed that the Blood Angels were flawed to their core: a sign of the ruin to come. Within their genetic code laid a flaw that could spell their end. During battle those that bore the Blood Angels' mark could be wracked with a thirst for blood that seemed unquenchable, and would even turn on their own. Many in the Legion's command hierarchy resigned themselves to simply hiding the secret from their kin, and pray that the Emperor would not discover the flaw but Sanguinius felt as if his Legion had toiled too hard to be undone by a flaw in his father's work. The Golden Warrior was intent on preventing the Ninth Legion from being the third Legion to be erased from Imperial records, to be the third empty plinth in the Investiary.

The pursuit of correcting the gene-seed flaw in the Ninth Legion led to one of the darkest parts of their history. Whenever the Blood Angels engaged xenos or human sub-species that had changed themselves on a genetic level, the Legion's Apothecaries would dissect and extract all manner of information on their primarch's orders - unbeknown to the rest of the Imperium - and this obsession came to dangerous head on the planet of Melchior, when the Blood Angels went to war with a race known as the Nephilim, and it is here where Chaos first marked the Blood Angels.

Melchior was once a vibrant and peaceful human-settled world, the entire star system being one of the few that avoided total collapse as with many other human colonies during Old Night. And yet, as the Blood Angels made their way to the world of Melchior all they found were once verdant worlds stripped of life, human husks drained dry and damnable shrines left in their wake. Sanguinius, perturbed by this, ordered many worlds to simply be bombarded to eradicate whatever remained as the invaders clearly had no intention of leaving human survivors.

It was on Melchior, that the Blood Angels found primitive, but still armed, human fleets waiting above the world. Any attempts to communicate with the humans were met with nothing. And while technologically inferior, the human fleet outnumbered the Blood Angels' own, but the Blood Angels - like the rest of the Astartes - were forged for this duty, so above the skies of Melchior the two fleets clashed.

In boarding actions that were made, the Astartes observed how blank the faces of the humans were, and how - despite their pitiful weaponry - they still threw themselves at the legionnaires, uncaring to how easily broken they were by the strength of the Emperor's warriors. The Legion's elite easily broke the human settlers, and the fleet parted enough to allow Sanguinius and his own warriors to land planet-side.

There the Ninth Legion came face to face with the xenos overlords of the human settlers; a race known as the Nephilim.

* * *

The Nephilim

During Old Night, when Mankind's first galactic empire came crashing down and the Eldar were torn apart by a calamity of their own creation, many dark and malevolent alien races rose in the ruins of the universe, each fighting for a chance of becoming the greatest power in the universe. During the days of the Great Crusade, many such races were crushed under the boots of the Astartes, but a rare few managed to defy the Emperor's will. The Nephilim were one such race.

The Nephilim were great giants, the average towering over even the Angel, and moved lethargically as if they were beasts swimming through the water, though this slothful pace belayed the tremendous speeds they could move when it came to combat. They spoke no comprehensible language that the Mechanicum's translation-cogitators could decipher and spoke through flashes of bioluminescence and hypersonic frequencies. Nightmarishly, any attempt by Blood Angel Librarians to communicate was met with mind-breaking psychic power, leaving said Librarians chanting praises to the aliens until the psy-link could be severed. A sign of their alien sense of a diet: the adulation of other races. The Nephilim longed for the psychic taste of adoration and such would set themselves up as primitive gods.

How any race evolved to develop such a diet is beyond even the understanding of the Imperium but the threat of such a race was apparent. Their entire existence defied the Imperial Truth, and their practices were clearly immoral and blasphemous. The tactics they followed were all the same as the Nephilim arrived on new worlds and preached a message of spiritual salvation with an eventual heavenly reward. Through either psychic manipulation or their sheer alien charisma, the Nephilim converted human populations to their religion. They fashioned masks of their own flesh for their devotees, which were fused to their faces and psychically bonded them together.

Worse still, the humans would build shrines and dark xenos chapels to worship their new gods further, unknowing that their saviours only saw them as cattle to be feasted upon. Such monsters did not deserve to live in the eyes of the Imperium but Sanguinius would find that this struggle against the alien would come at a dangerous and high price.

* * *

Sanguinius hated the Nephilim the moment he knew of their designs and tactics, this hatred not only due to their proclamation of godliness but also due to the worship the humans had of them being uncomfortably similar to Sanguinius' own relation with both the humans of Baal and his Blood Angels. Like the mutants of Baal before them, Sanguinius knew he would not be pacified until all memory of the Nephilim had been wiped from the face of the universe.

He urged his own Librarians to greater feats of psychic power to protect and combat against the natural psychic presence of the Nephilim, as to Sanguinius and the Blood Angels there was nothing more demeaning then falling to the worship of the alien. As for the threat of the Nephilim themselves, they were imposing behemoths that, while lacking a numerical advantage, fought with a great speed and strength, and the weaponry of the legionnaires had difficulty piercing their hides and armour. And the human slaves they controlled rushed forward to kill the 'unbelievers' that dared try and lay low their alien gods.

The Blood Angels were slowly being overrun by the aliens and their hordes of slaves, many of their number were turning to the side of the Nephilim, falling victim to the psychic powers of the alien. Sanguinius' frustration grew and grew, and at the epicentre of the conflict Sanguinius' fortitude gave out, letting out a shriek of rage, the Ninth Son let himself fully go to inhibitions, and around the Blood Angels likewise fell fully to the Thirst.

* * *

 _The primarch roared, and Azkaellon could do nothing but answer. He felt every fiber of his being scream out to fight it but he must follow his father and gaze into the Rage. The presence of the Nephilim subsided on his mind, and all that was left was devotion to Sanguinius, to the one who saved him from the weakness of his tribe and re-forged him and an angel._

 _He saw his father, fighting with the alien overlords that dared had the audacity to corrupt the innocent and make themselves the pitiful gods of this world. Sanguinius fought with the speed and strength of a true god. And with a berserk shriek, tore open one of the alien's neck with his own teeth. The Guard Commander saw around the other legionnaires fighting like their primogenitor, teeth and claws were used just as much as chainswords and bolters. And while the aliens dwarfed the Astartes, the Blood Angels swarmed them, dragging them down like a pack wolves hunting a great bear._

 _The power of the alien overlords seemed to be overwhelming Sanguinius however, and Azkaellon tried to wade through the bodies of human slaves, while dodging the great alien claws to help his sire against the xenos masters. He couldn't move far enough to evade from one of the alien's backhands, causing Azkaellon to fall against a jagged piece of rubble, stunning him for but a second._

 _His vision blurred, and Azkaellon saw other members of the Sanguinary Guard try and free Sanguinius from the grip of the alien overlords, only to tore into the air and ripped apart for the sick whim of the alien. Some even drew symbolic images across their skin with the blood of those guards they killed. From where he laid Azkaellon watched as despair took over Sanguinius' face, he watched as his father's face morphed from defiance to sadness to fear and finally back to rage. With a scream that echoed the rage of primitive Man, Sanguinius threw himself free of the alien overlords, somehow not bound to their psychic chains any longer and threw himself into battle with them once again._

* * *

Sanguinius was able to trump over the Nephilim overlords but how he did so is unknown, some Inquisitors believe he activated latent psyker powers which many of the Emperor's sons held, or maybe the Thirst gave him such titanic strength that he simply overpowered the xenos with his might. Whatever the case, Sanguinius and the Blood Angels managed to slay the Nephilim overlords, causing the enslaved humans to become free and the rest of the xenos to fall to disarray.

And while victorious, the Blood Angels still had to deal with those brothers that had not broken free of the Thirst, these brothers turned their attentions on the humans that they saved. And in their fury the madden Blood Angels tore at the settlers, and to make matters worse a fleet of the Luna Wolves, commanded by Horus had come to offer aid to the Blood Angels in their campaign. Terrified of his brother finding the truth, Sanguinius ordered both the human survivors put the blade, and any brother still under the Thirst to be put to death also.

Bound by blood and oaths the Blood Angels could do nothing to sway their gene-father and Raldoron, First Captain of the Ninth Legion, and Azkaellon of the Sanguinary Guard carried out their fathers orders; ruthlessly purging their own brothers and the surviving human slaves who only moments before had cried in thanks to being freed from the xenos. When Horus and his fleet came as reinforcement to destroy the last remains of the Nephilim fleet, Sanguinius lied to his brother, claiming that the humans were killed by the xenos, as a last spiteful act by the xenos.

However, one of those who had succumbed to the Red Thirst managed to avoid the massacre of Melchior. Alatros, the Space Marine who was lost in the crimson madness, fled to an abandoned warehouse where Sanguinius himself had to track down and dispatch this lost legionnaire. But to his shame Horus was present when the execution was carried out. Swearing his brother to silence, Sanguinius told his brother of his Legion's genetic-curse, though did not tell him of what truly occurred on Melchior. Horus swore that the Emperor would stop at nothing to help Sanguinius and that hiding such a thing would breed more discontent and distrust. Sanguinius argued that if the Emperor were to know then a censure would follow, as two others had so recently been carried out against the II and XI. The Angel beseeched his brother to give him more time to discover a cure. Horus, unable to persuade Sanguinius, respected his brother's choice with a heavy heart, and two primarchs were said to have left on sour terms.

The entire campaign left a dark mark on Sanguinius' soul, not only did he have to fear both his wings and the Thirst but now he was left distraught and confused by what powers he had invoked. Furthermore, the campaign showed Sanguinius the true level of horror that awaits Mankind in the stars, and how even the alien could break the will of not only an Astartes but a primarch as well. This left Sanguinius as one of the few primarchs who began to actively sponsor the growth of the Librarians within the Legiones Astartes. Worse still, was that - in secret - Sanguinius plundered not only the corpses of the Nephilim but their technology too, believing the secret to ending the Thirst could be either in the xenos genome or the technology that advanced their psyker powers.

Knowing that this unsanctioned research into xenos biology and forbidden xenos technology could end with discovery and all that entailed, the Angel of Baal threw himself into the Great Crusade with a renewed vigour so as to appear proactive in bringing the Emperor's dream to reality. Many praised Sanguinius and his Blood Angels in the victories that came after Melchior for it seemed that they had found a new drive since that dark day. While lacking the size of the Ultramarines, the Three Hundred Companies fought in wonderful tandem with the Imperial Army and due to this many worlds fell to compliance, making the Ninth Legion one of the more successful Space Marine Legions in terms of victories and worlds integrated into the Imperium, thus making Sanguinius a popular and respected figure throughout Imperial-controlled space.

The Blood Angels too became exalted by the Imperium who saw them as the pinnacle of an Astartes, both noble yet savage, diplomatic yet warriors with few peers. Even their own cousins felt that the Blood Angels were a standard to be met, though some like the Night Lords cared little for such things. The Blood Angels were painfully aware of their standing, and this amplified the fear of the Thirst. As for Sanguinius himself, he was loved by many of his brothers, and was one of the few primarchs that could be said to have a semi-healthy relationship with them all. Some, however, like Lorgar disliked the Angel due to his popularity, fearing that the Angel was; at best unintentionally inspiring ideas of godhood, or at worst attempting to supplant the Emperor. Fulgrim disliked the Angel more due to his vanity.

Others, such as Russ and Manus, deeply respected Sanguinius due to his martial prowess; that and his capacity for unrivaled violence. Some disliked Sanguinius for not putting a stop to his own sons' self-righteous attitude, and their fervour towards him and not the Emperor made some, such as Angron, wary and hesitant towards their ninth brother. But among the primarch brotherhood few were as close as Sanguinius and Horus, their two Legions having fought alongside one another on many a campaign, though the Blood Angels would never speak of Melchior and viewed that campaign as something that never occurred.

After two hundred years at leading the vanguard of the Great Crusade, the Emperor chose to step down as commander of the Crusade and instead chose to retire back to Terra to focus on His own projects. This surprised all the primarchs as they had assumed that the Emperor would lead them to its end, when the stars were finally Mankind's without a doubt. So, it came to the surprise that Hours was named Warmaster in the wake of the Emperor's leaving. Sanguinius supported this ascension, despite many arguing that he would be better suited to the task, and was one of the first to praise Horus.

However, the praise soured when Horus implored his brother to tell the Emperor of the Thirst now before He left for Terra. Sanguinius grew cold at the subject matter, and dodged any and all claims that the Thirst was still in his sons. Horus, still bound by his oath, dropped the matter - something he would bitterly regret - and while this conversation took place in private many noted Sanguinius' changed mood in the subsequent days of the Ullanor Triumph.

This, however, provided an opportunity for Sanguinius as while his sons had suppressed the Thirst during the remainder of the Great Crusade, his own Apothecaries and tech-priests had worked on the Nephilim technology believing that with more they could simply 'code' the Red Thirst out of the Blood Angels and cure them over time. Wishing to be away from Horus, and deeply excited by this new development, Sanguinius asked for Horus' permission to take his own sons on a campaign of his own choice far beyond the Imperium's borders. The Warmaster allowed it, hoping that the combat would allow Sanguinius to nurse his wounded pride and cool his anger, after which Horus intended to drag Sanguinius to Terra - if that's what it took - to take him to his father and save him and the Blood Angels.

Horus would later regret allowing Sanguinius this campaign, for tracking down Nephilim transmissions led the Angel and the Ninth Legion to a star system consumed by the powers of Hell: Signus.

 **Signus: The Angel and the First Sin**

The events that unfurled within the Signus System and its worlds have been something that has been under deep investigation by the Inquisition. While there were remembrancers among the Three Hundred Companies, their fates were horrid indeed; many accounts end with the manipulations of Neverborn. This leads to great difficulty when trying to ascertain truth from falsehood but the Inquisition, with the aid of the Thousand Sons, use Jecho the Mad's _Blood of the Angel_ to paint a clear picture of what happened to Sanguinius and the Ninth at the Signus System, and how he made his pact with the Dark Powers.

Sanguinius' motivation to travelling to Signus System was in the hopes of finding another, lesser horde of Nephilim as so to take their technology and harvest more of their bodies, and to use these means to cure his sons despite the clear heresy of such an act. And while a well-meaning mission, it was clear that the Ruinous Powers had their hand in this journey, whether Sanguinius was aware of this or not, as when Sanguinius and the Blood Angels came to the Signus System they found only the hordes of damnation awaiting them.

If the Nephilim were at the Signus System with their mind-enslaved servitors, they were long dead now, or worse joined the Horde of Chaos, as what the Blood Angels found was not a xenos threat but one far more insidious. The creatures of the warp had enslaved the entirety of the Signus System, devouring and killing many of the humans that dwelled there, as well as anything else. Many of the Blood Angel Librarians cried out in fear of this new threat when the Ninth Legion's war-fleet exited the Empyrean, some even bursting like ripen fruit, allowing warp apex predators access to the fleet's ships. This harkened back to the darker ages, when great psykers often acted as food and a gateway for such things, and Sanguinius found himself horrified to find he was fighting something from one of the galaxy's darker eras.

Many worlds of the Signus System were given the Emperor's mercy of Exterminatus as it was the only safe way to ensure the total annihilation of this insidious new foe, and to give any poor creature - human or xenos - something that could be called a merciful end. The worlds of Signus were home to abominations now, and were treated as such. This gave Sanguinius some solace to deny the warp-born predators their meal.

The one world that seemed unharmed by the Neverborn was that of Signus Prime, and Sanguinius - driven by his desire to take something of value that could save his sons - ordered the entirety of the Three Hundred Companies to go planet-side barring ship defence units, while leaving his armada of warships above to keep them protected in case the monsters that stalked the Signus System had void capability. The Blood Angels moved with discipline and directed fury onto the world, despite the fact it was not just a barren wasteland - it was devoid of anything. The world of Signus Prime seemed to be nothing more than a blank slate. The Blood Angels, to their credit, did not seem perturbed by this, as they often swore they would follow their gene-sire into hell. Now it seemed the Dark Gods - in their humour - were testing such an oath.

Silence fell across the plain of Signus Prime and it became apparent to the Blood Angels that they was no trace of anything of value for them, and given they had destroyed the rest of the infested worlds - and those ships that likewise became infested. It seemed that now was the time to withdraw for them, and to make the rest of the Imperium aware to the level of monstrosity that they had seen in this brief campaign. It was then when Raldoron made his primarch aware of one structure to be found across the barren world: a church. The Angel of Baal led his sons to the structure, and found it was a church. Not like the ones raised to the Nephilim but one seen in the days of Old Terra.

Ignoring the fervent warnings of the Librarians, Sanguinius pressed onwards into the church, curious to see such a building here, his mind reeling with all manner of questions about this entire affair. No sooner than he had opened the ancient oaken door to open, the warp ripped open in the skies above Signus Prime, and the Angel of Baal was dragged by some unseen force into the Church. The Blood Angels attempted to open the seemingly wooden double doors but found themselves unable too, while the Librarians claimed it to be crafted ancient and nefarious warp power. Ever loyal the Blood Angels quickly set a perimeter of protection around it, as the earth of Signus Prime began to churn and broil, and from it spewed forth the Immaterium's hordes.

* * *

 _"The Angel of Baal was dragged into the abode of the Gods, and there he found truth and salvation. His loyal sons fought and bled outside, as the Gods made themselves known to the unbelievers, to make them see the power of Chaos with their own eyes. And in the dark of the warp, sensing the will of its Four Masters, the First Sin turned its baleful gaze upon Signus Prime to either destroy one of Anathema's get or raise him above his false-father as the Lord of Chaos."_ \- Extract taken from Jecho's _Blood of the Angel_ , Chapter Six, Verse Sixty-Six, translated by Inquisitor Korath, who was found mad and given the Emperor's mercy.

* * *

There are few details on what happened next for Jecho's work becomes indescribable and the pages something of purest evil but with the aid of the purifying presence of a Living Saint, the Inquisition was able to gleam meaning from it. What is known is that all four aspects of the Primordial Annihilator converged on Signus Prime; Plaguebearers of Nurgle, Bloodletters of Khorne, Horrors of Tzeentch and Daemonettes of Slaanesh. The Neverborn began to wage war against the Blood Angels. Horrified but still warriors to their core, the Blood Angels fought back with the fury of their kind.

Meanwhile in the stars above a new fleet appeared, one that was greater than even the Three Hundred Companies. The vicious hulks were a diverse mixture of warships, some of designs that Humanity had never encountered then or since, and had grown fat on the powers of the warp that fuelled them. These foul ships didn't fire conventional weaponry but instead spewed out warp lighting, and unleashed hordes of warp predators as boarding parties.

As for the Ninth Son he found himself face-to-face with two Greater Daemons; Kyriss of Slaanesh and Ka'Bandha of Khorne. The two Greater Daemons prowled around a great blackened hunk of rock, and Sanguinius swore he could see blood drip from its jagged edges. While the Bloodthirster longed to face himself against one as mighty as Sanguinius, the Keeper of Secrets stayed its bloodthirsty companion and instead began to talk with the Angel of Baal. It congratulated Sanguinius forgaining the attention of not only one god but all four. The daughter of the Youngest Goddess explained its true nature to Sanguinius who disputed the claim. It told the Golden Warrior of the Emperor's plans and what His future would mean for Sanguinius but the Angel rebuked her. Ka'Bandha snarled that the Angel and his sons would belong to his Lord of Skulls, and that the Rage would send them into Khorne's arms this very day. But Sanguinius denied him even that.

* * *

 _The foul Neverborn Princess tittered. **"Oh my dearest Angel, you have no choice in the matter. You will either bow to my master or,"** the thing curled what passed for lips when looking at its matted companion. **"Its."**_

 _Sanguinius was on his knees, sweat trickled down his face in torrents. He came here in search of solutions, not damnation. He came here to free his sons, not shackle them to the will of one of these 'Gods'. He shook his great mane of fair hair as he fought down his bile. "No."_

 _Both Neverborn looked on in shocked. **"What?"**_

 _"I will not bow to either of you," Sanguinius spoke, his skin corpse-pale, and dark veins ran thick across his face. "When you go back to your gods, let them know who sent you."_

 _And with the same power he used to destroy the alien overlords, Sanguinius burst towards the two Neverborn as their own faces were wrapped in confusion._

* * *

The sheer ferocity and speed in which Sanguinius attacked the two Greater Neverborn caught them off guard. Coupled with the fact that they had both been led to believe that the Angel of Baal would be forced to choose one of their deities meant that neither was prepared for the power of the Ninth Primarch. Kyriss was slain quickly in the duel, caught off guard and barely able to keep up to the furious pace of Sanguinius, their brief duel ended with one of her legs sliced off at the knee, and her jaw cleaved in two by _the Blade Encarmine_. Ka'Bandha was a different beast altogether however, as this favoured son of Khorne was greatly blessed for war in all its forms.

Laughing at the weakness of its sister-Neverborn, Ka'Bandha threw himself at Sanguinius, and the pair duelled among the ruins of the Last Church. Pillars shattered as primarch and daemon crossed blades, while outside the Blood Angels likewise fought on against the hordes of the warp. Dreadnoughts coordinated their gunfire to bring down Greater Daemons, Librarians exchanged bolts of lightning against Horrors, and battle-brothers brought chainsword and power sword against blood-craft black blades of Bloodletters. While in the skies above fleets clashed as the _Red Tear_ reaped a bloody tally from the daemon-fleet and the sound of the laughing Dark Gods could be heard.

Sanguinius and Ka'Bandha traded blows, the Angel of Baal began to understand the rage that fuelled him, his great hunger of combat devoured it. The words of Kyriss began to seep in and feed on the doubt and confusion that Sanguinius had felt his entire life. His great angel wings; a sign of holiness in a godless universe. The contradiction caused Sanguinius' blood to boil. And with a shriek of rage, Ka'Banda's axe shattered on Sanguinius' sword. The Bloodthirster retorted by cracking his hellfire whip, but Sanguinius wrenched that from his talons, and used it to choke the Greater Daemon. Ka'Bandha snarled for his Blood Father to save him, confused to why the Lord of Skulls had decided that the Angel was not to be his. Khorne did not respond and with a final tug, the whip sawed through the bone of Ka'Bandha neck and his head rolled loose.

Sanguinius panted as the calm came back over him, as satisfying as destroying those monsters were it did nothing to bring him closer to his goal. Instead, it seemed his Legion was damned to die here, and to his horror, the Chaos Gods allowed Sanguinius to see the battle between the Neverborn and his sons. They had all fallen to the Red Thirst, all of them. They tore at the Neverborn with teeth, screaming for the return of their father as they sent the daemons back to the warp. Sanguinius tried to force his way out but failed, nothing he had could combat the powers of the Ruinous Powers acting in concert.

That is until a new voice spoke up in the darkness of the Last Church, and Sanguinius turned to see a fur-wearing savage bearing jewelry made of bones and wielding a primitive spear, standing above the charred rock. Sanguinius demanded answers from this man but in turned he simply shushed the Angel. The ancient warrior introduced himself to Sanguinius and had every intention of giving Sanguinius all the answers he need. To give him the means not only to save his sons but even the Imperium from the fate that awaited them. As for the man, he claimed his name was Drach'nyen, and he claimed that he had been with Sanguinius far longer than even the Emperor had.

* * *

Drach'nyen: The First Sin

It is incredibly difficult to discover the origins and situations that birthed specific Neverborn, for they are lies made manifest and a vast majority are merely an astral shard of one of the Great Four. Their capacity to lie and cheat the creatures of the Materium is well-known and as such they remain a constant menace to those sane enough to try and discern their origins to destroy them. But there is one among their number that even the highest members of the Ordos Malleus known next to nothing about, one that is said to have been in the shadows of Mankind since the days that they first crawled out of the ooze of Old Terra. What lore that is known of this monster of darkest shadows is kept under constant guard of Grey Knights for the First Sin's reach is long indeed.

The origins of the First Sin are as entwined with humanity as the Emperor is, a foreboding thought to imagine. According to Jecho, the First Sin was born of just that; the first time a man slew his brother for his own need. The willingness of evil that was found in Man's hearts planted a seed in the warp that would become Drach'nyen. For every life taken by a man's hand, by every hate filled last curse to the murderer and every vengeful thought of taking another's life only to increase one's standing fed the First Sin. As Mankind grew as a civilization so too did the First Sin grow in standing amongst Chaos, to the point where it began to dwarf Greater Daemons that had existed for three times its lifespan.

Such was the power of Drach'nyen that it was a separate being from the Chaos Gods themselves, not bound to any of them. Usually such a being would have been torn asunder by the Four Powers and its strength shared among them equally but the gods and the First Sin were united under the hatred of the same foes: the Emperor of Mankind. None can say why the First Sin was so obsessed with the Emperor, though it boasted to have known what the Emperor truly was and His own origins. One prevailing theory was that the First Sin and the Emperor were constant foes, fighting for the spirit of Mankind. The more heretical theory is that the Emperor was the daemon's 'father' and it was His murder that birthed it.

All that can be said it that the First Sin was driven by an urge to see the Emperor dead, an obsession that consumed its very being. And so it made a pact with the Chaos Gods, to see if it could turn Sanguinius away from the light of the Emperor, and failing that simply consume the Angel of Baal's soul and so with the bargain struck, the First Sin made its way to Signus Prime to bend Sanguinius to the will of the Primordial Annihilator.

* * *

Sanguinius demanded answers, far too tired for Neverborn trickery and demanded that the First Sin remove the Red Thirst from his sons. Drach'nyen found such demands from the Angel of Baal amusing and explained where Sanguinius was. He was in the Last Church - the last place of worship on Terra that the Emperor burned. He explained that the rock was the First Altar - where the very first being in reality prayed to the Dark Gods. Both were examples of the Emperor's hypocrisy, just like Sanguinius' wings. Sanguinius was taken aback by both facts, and couldn't deny the truth of the Neverborn's words.

The First Sin pointed to the chapel windows and Sanguinius saw that the stain glass had changed. From this Sanguinius learned of the Fall: where the Eldar empire fell to ruin as they birthed a new god that devoured their souls, the child of said god Sanguinius having recently just slain. Sanguinius knew he had heard enough, he knew that this was the indisputable truth of reality: gods existed. He existed, a symbol of faith. That was his purpose. The windows changed and Sanguinius saw many potential futures if he did nothing; he died here with his Legion mocked, he saw the Great Crusade collapse under its own weight and its ideals discarded in favour of blind worship of the Emperor, the False-Emperor. The Angel of Baal knew the Imperial Truth was nothing but a lie, and his anger towards the Emperor for giving his sons the burden of the Red Thirst grew tenfold.

Broken under all that he had seen over his life, Sanguinius began to believe that if Mankind followed its current course then Mankind would fall into worship of the Emperor, and he would become something as appalling as the Chaos Gods, gorging himself on their souls, or that the Imperium would fall like the Eldar did for already they were walking the same path as the Children of Isha. It seemed ignorance was the preferable fate to Mankind but even then the nature of such an empire disgusted Sanguinius. It would not be true, nor would it be just.

The First Sin agreed, and watched with satisfaction as Sanguinius writhed under the sheer burden of all he had learned; either now he would destroy his old foe's son or raise him up. Now was the time for decision. What he did not expect was for Sanguinius to choose the third path.

Sanguinius' could not bear the burden anymore; he could hear the roars of nightmarish monsters and the scream of his own sons. He had fought daemons and was confronted by a being as old as his father. He knew that Mankind was doomed to one fate or another… or was it? Ambition sparked in Sanguinius' mind and he thought back to his days on Baal. On how the Blood revered him… like a god.

* * *

 _ **"Nothing to say, young one,"** The First Sin rumbled, its face still that of primitive man. **"Do I kill you then? A pity, you would have made a fine lord."**_

 _"Yes," The Angel of Baal agreed, with a smile of his own. "But why be a lord when I can be king?"_

 _The First Sin cocked his head in confusion. " **What do you mean?"**_

The Blade Encarmine _pierced through the chest of Drach'nyen and the First Sin looked down in shock as his life blood began to fuse with the blade, seeping into the power sword. He looked up and saw Sanguinius smile - the expression of a mixture of bitterness and of relief. Drach'nyen then understood what Sanguinius was doing and he welcomed it for it would bleed his old foe's empire dry. The daemon allowed himself to be taken into the blade, knowing that such a fate would bind him to it for eternity._

 _And as the First Sin bled into the blade of Sanguinius, he took a small part of the First Sin's power as his own. The effect changed him, his mane blackened and his eyes grew dark with sorcerous light, his skin pale as a corpse and the blue veins ran thick and true. The greatest change, however, came to his wings: those great angel wings shifted, forever now to constantly change colour - a sickening sight to the sane. The Angel had Fallen but in doing so had risen to become the True Lord of Chaos. The Greatest and the Worst. He was the Arch-Betrayer, Master of Traitors, the Angel Fallen._

* * *

The Gods presented a third path and Sanguinius took it. Sanguinius saw that only he could lead Mankind to master the powers of the warp. He saw the Eldar's mistakes and swore that would not be Mankind's fate. Instead Humanity would shed its mortal coil and become a fusion of the Materium and the Immaterium. All the Angel Fallen would need to do was ascend the Golden Throne of Mankind and claim it as his own. He would cast down the False Emperor and become the Second Emperor of the Imperium of Man, an empire to be remade anew into the Imperium Chaotica.

Sanguinius exited the Last Church to see the Neverborn army bow to him, and the four great leaders of it step forward. They praised their brother-in-darkness and exalted him for abandoning the foolishness of his father, Jecho's account further claims the Neverborn were cowed by the fact that Sanguinius had bound the First Sin to his sword and will, but they departed from Signus Prime leaving him with tomes of dark knowledge, a boon of the Fell Gods. Sanguinius thanked his patrons and turned to his awed sons.

The Blood Angels then realized something, the Red Thirst was gone. They did not feel the rage of battle in them any longer, they felt free of it, and Sanguinius explained that it was the Primordial Truth that took it from them. He told them all he had learned and how the Emperor had betrayed them and humanity. He roared to ask who would join him in his Crusade to save Mankind from destruction and the Three Hundred Companies having fought against the truth itself, bellowed their prayers of their gene-sire to the blood-red skies of Signus Prime, and above the Pantheon of Chaos laughed aloud with great joy.

The Blood Angels were not untouched by their war however, and for the price of freedom from the Thirst many of them now bore the touch of Chaos: mutation. Sanguinius, however, told them of how it was the gods' favour and to embrace it, for it was the sign of Chaos among them. Some of the greater lords of the Blood Angels now found themselves twisted and becoming the cursed-blessing of a Neverborn host, the daemon sharing their souls and physical shell. These would be the first of Secondborn; the first but not the last. And the Librarians of the Blood Angels, now touched and empowered by the Ruinous Powers became the first Chaos Sorcerers among the Legiones Astartes, their powers having grown significantly since embracing the warp as their gene-sire intended.

Sanguinius led his sons out of the Signus System, and as the Blood Angels left it seemed to collapse into itself, devoured by the warp as if it never existed to begin with. As for Sanguinius, he knew that he was on the threshold now, but could not play his hand just yet. He needed allies in the war to come and furthermore needed to hide the taint of his sons - for a brief while at least - this is when he learned of Khaaratan, and how the Drukhari had attempted to stop the fall of the primarchs from his Neverborn allies, and a sickening smile came about Sanguinius' face. For it seemed if one had faith in the gods, they would be rewarded in turn.

* * *

 _"The Angel had Fallen in the first of Signus Prime and arose a great Lord of Chaos: the Arch-Traitor, the Lord of Misrule, the End of Empires, the Krop-Tor. Many names he had but they were all the same: Chosen of Chaos. Him and the First Sin made a pact to join together to rise above their father, and make the unbelievers see the Truth of our reality._

 _As for those sent to beseech Sanguinius, they had been played fools. Kyriss allowed herself to be tormented, choosing perpetual pain for three centuries to atone for her mistake. While Ka'Bandha swore eternal vengeance on the Angels of Blood no matter how cursed and twisted they might be in the eyes of the Four Kings._

 _Now, was the time for blood, for brother to slain brother in the most wondrous way. To show humanity how great we can become if only we choose the path of the strong. So began the Heresy; the culling of the weak. So began the Great War, the Long War, the War of the Angel."_ Extract taken from Jecho's _Blood of the Angel_ , Chapter Eight, Verse Ninety-Eight, translated by Inquisitor Korath.

* * *

 **The Heresy: Architects of Chaos**

In the years preceding the Heresy the Angel Fallen knew he had to tread with care. To prepare and plant the seeds of heresy took time but all must be made ready so that he could take his place as emperor of the Imperium Chaotica. The mark of Ruin was clear on Sanguinius and on that of his sons but the Three Hundred Companies could not defy the Emperor nor the Imperium as a whole, not yet at least. Sanguinius - despite his love among the Imperium - did not have any true authority other than that bequeathed to a primarch. He still would have to bow to Horus if the Warmaster beckoned him, so as not to raise suspicions. He needed allies to fight his war and he needed his sons to be ready. Of course, the Ruinous Powers had already offered their patronage to a number of the primarchs, all that was left was for Sanguinius to begin the civil war that would decide the fate of the species.

As for the Blood Angels, Sanguinius spread them far and wide among the stars to the farthest points of the Great Crusade - away from prying eyes - and began appointing captains and lords to keep a careful watch over them. He ordered his sons to participate in the Great Crusade as normal but if they saw an opportunity to turn any they found among the civilizations brought into compliance to Chaos then to do so. And so, he approached the Lion first, seeing him as a true brother. And the two spoke of the Dark Eldar and the truth of reality. Sanguinius revealed his true visage to the Lion and it is said Lion El'Jonson fell to Chaos there and then.

Using the patronage of the Fell Powers, the Blood Angels orchestrated campaigns with little to no assistance from other Legions suspected of firm loyalty to the Imperium. Warp storms, longer and more hazardous journeys, and more allowed the Ninth Legion a form of privacy of sorts. This gave the Blood Angels free reign to dabble in the powers of the warp to their full advantage. Some fell to one aspect of the Primordial Truth, others to all Four. Any fleet found by any force of Blood Angels was either fed to the warp for more power or turned against the Emperor's light.

Furthermore, Sanguinius wanted his Legion to recover from the losses suffered at Signus and to eclispse their previous size, so he returned to Baal, and with the knowledge that his Apothecaries had gained over the Great Crusade ordered the secret recruitment of new Blood Angels; many would become traditional legionnaires but many thousands became something else altogether. These warriors would be free of the Red Thirst, but would belong heart and soul to Chaos. Worse still, were that these hybrids were made using the genetics of the Nephilim, this old project of Sanguinius turned into a darker one: the Cambions.

* * *

The Cambions, Will-Breakers of the Ninth

All Traitor Legions have long deviated from the standard and pure recruiting practices of their loyal counterparts when it comes to creating fresh Astartes to fight in the Long War. Either out of pragmatism or perversity, the Traitor Legions dabble in many new ways to create more warriors to fight for the Dark Gods. The Cambions are an example of the foulest perversion, one that even the demented Clonelord is deeply awed by. Prior to the outbreak of the Sanguinary Heresy the Angel Fallen had found a cure of sorts for the Thirst. Following the Legion's embracement of the galaxy's harsh truths with the patronage of the Dark Gods, and with the aid of Neverborn, the Blood Angels mixed Space Marine genomes with that of the Nephilim; creating the bastardised Cambions.

The Cambions are tall even by Astartes standards with only the Secondborn being taller than them. The xenos gene-codes interwoven with that of Astartes made horrific and giant legionnaires that were typically the size of Terminators even when out of armour, and like their xenos forebears, the Cambions constantly exude psychic strength to make those around them fall to worship. But instead of setting themselves as gods, the Cambions make those around them venerate both the Dark Gods and Sanguinius, forcing them to fall to their knees and praise them - something which has allowed them to be tolerated by the Blood Angels, who disdain the Cambions for their xenos half. As such, the Neverborn admire the Cambions, calling them Will-Breakers, as they often gain a feast of souls from Cambion victims, and as such Neverborn and the hybrid Astartes can often be seen marching side by side during the wars of the Blood Angels. A dangerous threat to any that wish to face them to be sure.

* * *

Furthermore, while it cannot be proven, it is believed that Sanguinius pushed his more headstrong brothers into despising Magnus and his Thousand Sons evermore. Knowing the strong opinions of many of his brothers, Sanguinius felt that if he forced his father's hand at the Council of Nikaea, then this could lead to further allies disgruntled with the Emperor. Ferrus Manus, Leman Russ and Rogal Dorn made their disgust of Magnus clear that day, and Sanguinius could see the strands of the Dark Gods around his brothers' souls, pulling and tugging. And while the Angel Fallen was displeased that he knew he would be unable to gain Magnus' loyalty, he felt that the trio of savage primarchs would make malleable tools for the Ruinous Powers.

Sanguinius' hand could be felt in the corruption of many of his brothers, his orders to the White Scars and their fall on Chondax, his discussions with the Lion and how he kept gaps in the knowledge shared so as to prompt the Lion's own insatiable curiosity, and with pushing Dorn toward the path of Nurgle so the Unyielding One could gain the Plaguefather's indomitable pox. And while many records of the Heresy have been burned to prevent the spread of corruption, making it difficult to ascertain the true scope of the Angel Fallen's reach, what can be said is that half of the Legions had sworn loyalty to him in the days leading up to the rebellion, forsaking the Emperor for Chaos.

* * *

 _"Nine was always seen as a holy number to the ancients of Old Terra: the number of the angels. To them, the number nine was a belief that you had been blessed by holy powers and that your life would be a symbol of service to those beneath, that you would help all that you could simply because you had the power to do so. How like the Dark Powers to twist such a thing, to bring the greatest among us so low and debased. To make a mockery out of the ancient belief of purity: the humour of bloated monsters."_ \- Quote attributed to Lorgar Aurelian.

* * *

Now while his own sons were loyal to Chaos until their last breath the same could not be said for the traitors as a whole. Sanguinius feared that and knew his allied Legions must be purged to ensure that only those who sought to dethrone the Emperor would reign supreme. He called the corrupt to him; Ferrus Manus, Rogal Dorn and Lion El'Jonson to him and shared his fears. All three primarchs acknowledged that truth, for the Emperor did inspire loyalty among some that outgrew their love for their gene-fathers, especially among Terran-born Astartes.

The Isstvan Atrocity began with Sanguinius once again using his brother's love against him. His claimed to Horus that the Red Thirst had been cured by simple genetic modification but this did little to dissuade the First Found, but when Sanguinius sent falsified footage of his sons fighting bitter battles and not falling to its rage Horus seemed placated for the time being. Furthermore, Sanguinius sent another message to Horus and asked if he could lead the Dark Angels, Imperial Fists and the Iron Hands on campaign so as to strengthen their ties, a plan which aligned with Horus' own, to act as repentance for his coldness to his brother. Horus approved, glad to see the Angel Fallen in lighter spirits, unaware he had damned those Legions.

The three Traitor Legions sent thousands of the Throne-loyal legionnaires onto the world of Isstvan III; a sign of unity that would soon be broken. The Life-Eater Virus did its work but the sway of the Blood God took Manus and he led his sons planet-side to deal with those few that survived the initial bombing. In the confusion, one loyal Iron Hand warship, the _Sisypheum_ , broke free of the madness of the Atrocity and Sanguinius fumed at this mistake. Still, the combat allowed for the gods to favour those worthy of it, such as Azkaellon, who led the Blood Angel forces on Isstvan and gained much favour from the Angel Fallen and the Ruinous Powers as a result. The _Sisypheum_ would flee to Terra under the command of Ulrach Branthan, a Captain of the Iron Hands who had remained loyal but was forced to leave many of his own behind, and thus the Imperium was made aware of the Angel's treachery.

However, while the betrayal was now clear Sanguinius still had the element of surprise for no news of the Ultramarines, Raven Guard, White Scars, and Salamanders' new allegiances had yet been revealed. Knowing Horus would send the other Legions to crush the traitors; Sanguinius knew that this was his chance to break three of them here and now. And with both the Thousand Sons occupied with the rampaging Space Wolves, and the Nurglite plague on Olympia, Sanguinius knew that this could clear his path straight to Terra itself.

Contacting those that had hid their heresy, Sanguinius simply waited for his executioners to come to him, and using warp-craft hid a great portion of his own fleet, headed by the now warped _Red Tear_ and prepared the killing blow. And so, when vengeance was to be delivered to the traitors by the loyalists on the grounds of the forever-cursed black sands of Isstvan V, the Legions of the Emperor's Children, Alpha Legion and Death Guard had their backs broken by the treacherous betrayal.

The Blood Angels were at the vanguard of the traitor forces when it came to the Isstvan V Dropsite Massacre, delighting in having to no longer hide their mutations or gods-given powers from their own. Cambions and Neverborn marched together and Sorcerers traded blows with Librarians among the killing ground. Worst still was the Sanguinary Guard, now Secondborn, and the Charnel Cohort - or as they are also known the Dreadwings - the lesser bound kin of these Secondborn lords.

* * *

The Charnel Cohort

The birth of the first Secondborn came during the battle of Signus Prime, when the Blood Angels fought to protect Sanguinius while he learned of universal truth. When the end of the battle came, the Ninth Legion Astartes that fought against the Neverborn ended up becoming far more warped than some of their own kin. Many Blood Angels during the outbreak of Red Thirst tore at the Neverborn like animals and when the battle came to the end that consumed daemonic essence fused with the legionnaire becoming a new kind of weapon in the Golden Warrior's arsenal.

With the Angel Fallen taking the power of the First Sin, Sanguinius was able to pierce the veil of the warp with his own blade with ease, and dragged those Neverborn needed for the process of - whether willing or not - to possess only those warriors Sanguinius trusted to take part in the process, for only the strongest can bind a Neverborn to their own will. This union of Neverborn and Astartes were of great pride to Sanguinius, who now delighted in his new powers of creation, and each warrior was worth at least ten of his fellows. The Charnel Cohort were able to hide their identity which worked to their advantage while Sanguinius was planning the Heresy but when blood first spills, the Dreadwings will often give into their daemon-form.

Each of these daemon-forms wildly differs from the other but each had one similarity; black angel wings erupting from the back of the Dreadwings, helping cement their moniker. Each was taller than a Terminator-clad battle-brother and armed with natural weapons that could slice through ceramite with ease. Of course, such creatures did not lead for they are creatures of bottled rage and directed murder but they make effective shock troopers for what better way to break the foe's spirit than to have a creature of the material realm and the warp wreck pure havoc among their number.

* * *

The Loyal Legions were sent fleeing from Isstvan V, depleted and shattered, with both Mortarion and Alpharius reported as killed-in-action - though later engagements would prove the Arch-Betrayer incorrect concerning the Last Primarch's fate. Sanguinius felt that any chance of a coordinated loyalist response to counter the rebellion's early victories as very unlikely, so the Angel fallen began the second phase of the war. The Arch-Betrayer dispatched Guilliman and a majority of the XIII to Ultramar to crush the Word Bearers and World Eaters. The Urizen and the Red Angel threatened the traitors' principal source of industry and resupply there, something Sanguinius could not afford to lose in the Heresy's opening stages. The Angel Fallen gave Guilliman the means to trap them in a warp storm of the Avenging Son's creation, much to the Thirteenth Primarch's delight. With another two Loyalist Legions removed from the equation, Sanguinius set his sights on the Throneworld.

Annoyingly, the Nine Traitors Legions and their strict hierarchy soon fell apart as several Legions pursued their own whims and goals, many due to the gods they had sworn loyalty too and their conflicting ambitions. Each had their own slights they wished to rectify, and ironically it was Ferrus Manus who kept his sons somewhat cohesive, though as expected as the Chosen of Khorne, he had a tendency to attack any world that offered the slightest challenge to him - that is if the cannons of the _Red Tear_ did not destroy it first. This led Sanguinius to develop trust in several sons of his brothers such as Shiban Khan and Targutai Yesugei of the primarch-less White Scars, and most notably Marius Gage of the Ultramarines, whose loyalty the Angel Fallen subverted towards him as the Heresy dragged onwards.

Worse still, was both the efforts of the Alpha Legion and the Night Lords, whose coordinated efforts to jeopardize the Traitor Legions was working, if in small doses. Still, it irritated Sanguinius as his army was divisive as it was without the aid of the shadowy legions of the VIII and the XX. And the Neverborn he had sent to hunt down the Death Guard had sent no tidings to him in the Warp. Enraged by this resistance, Sanguinius sent Marius Gage and a force of White Scars to hunt down the Night Lords and Konrad Curze.

One success Sanguinius did achieve several years into the rebellion was Guilliman's return from the Ruinstorm-enclosed Ultramar, proclaiming that he had left both Lorgar and Angron trapped there, left to the whims of the Neverborn hordes. Furthermore, the Battle-King of Macragge claimed to have slain Alpharius at Eskrador when he attempted to free his brothers from the Ruinstorm. He was met only with confusion for the traitors had claimed to have taken the life of Alpharius several times over throughout the Heresy, the latest being the duel between the Hydra Lord and Azkaellon on Tyrrok.

This changed nothing though, much to Sanguinius' ire. Coupled with the tensions between Guilliman and the Angel Fallen, as Guilliman saw that the sons left behind under Marius Gage had slowly turned to worshipping Sanguinius and even with the death of Alpharius, the Alpha Legion still did not stop. Nevertheless, with such a large force at last rallied, Sanguinius saw this as the perfect opportunity to attack the Throneworld and hoped to quash any ideas of rebellion within his own forces. So after sending a vanguard to crush Curze and the Night Lords at Yarant, Sanguinius charged forward Beta-Garmon, the Gateway to Sol. There the Ultramarines and the Blood Angels engaged elements of the IV, XVI and XX, overcoming them after heavy casualties but at last the way to the Throneworld was open.

Following the decisive victories at Beta-Garmon and Yarant III, Sanguinius called forth for all the Fallen Legions to join him once more for the final campaign of the war: the battle for Sol and Terra.

 **The Siege of Terra: Father and Son**

 _"The Angels of Blood came to Terra, the Arch-Traitor own get, those spawn of daemons and treachery. Ambition and greed burned in their eyes and their hunger for dominance knew no bounds. It was upon this holy ground, the debased Ninth Primarch fell, for the Angel had his wings broken."_ \- Extract taken from the Legacy of Heresy.

* * *

Thanks to sleeper agents, traitor spies and Neverborn elements, the Angel Fallen was able to divine a rough extent of Perturabo's defences. Though he did not know how great the impact they would have on his fleet, he knew that the damage done could ruin the Siege before the traitors before they set planet-side. Furthermore, the Moon of Titan held a great fortress-monastery that housed dangerous warriors said to be the equal of the Legio Custodes. These Knights-Errant were assembled together from a mixture of loyalist survivors from across the Traitor Legions as well as certain individuals chosen from among the Loyalist Legions. Sanguinius had no intention of letting these warriors enter the fray for the risk was too great, and so with all the powers of the warp at his side, he conducted a great scheme to ensure his forces would make it to Terra's skies.

Wishing to purge his Legions of those that had failed him as well as reminding the Neverborn of who was Master of the Legions, Sanguinius choice a number of forces from across the width and breadth of the Traitor Legions and their auxillia, of those whose failures could not be allowed any longer. Some primarchs, such as the Blood Gorgon and the Lion, were fully aware of those sons sent to die while others were told that they were to be given the honour of the vanguard. Furthermore, rituals were conducted to allow a daemon-armada to manifest itself, leading it was the daemon Samus of the Ruinstorm. The Neverborn failed to slay Lorgar during the Heresy, and saw this as a chance to atone in the eyes of the Dark Gods. Samus' great daemon-fleets reinforced by those that were considered expendable descended on the outer fleets and Titan; both clearing the way for the core traitor fleet and keeping the Knights-Errant from interfering as they were forced to face Samus and his hordes.

With the way cleared, the traitors made planet-fall. Once the Lupercal Spaceport (renamed after the Warmaster following Lion El'Jonson's betrayal) and the Eternity Wall Spaceport were secured, hundreds of thousands of legionnaires and tens of millions landed, besieging and begin to encroach onto the Imperial Palace. Not only did Chaos Space Marines attack Terra but all manner of forces sworn to the Angel Fallen did so. Dark Mechanicum contingents of traitor Titan Legions, entire Knight houses, and scores of Skitarii regiments fought alongside whole army groups of Traitor Imperial Army, supplementing the already formidable Traitor Astartes, each fighting to see Sanguinius on the Golden Throne. Supported by Imperial Fist war-machines, the traitors managed to initially cut huge swathes into the defenders. Unfortunately for Sanguinius, the loyalist Mechanicum, reformed by Perturabo from their Schism following the subjugation of Mars deployed their own god-engines, their weapons' fire eventually taking down Dorn's Sky Fortress, hovering directly overhead tens of thousands of Ultramarines.

Soon, progress stalled and frustration grew for the Angel Fallen. The Iron Hands kept charging the great walls of Terra; uncaring to their mounting losses, and while each death venerated the Blood God it did nothing to help the Siege of Terra. Sanguinius' plan to bring down the walls was once again ruined by the division of the gods themselves; as the Dark Angels indulged in their excess and hunted down the population of Terra rather than lend their efforts to the Siege itself barring a few companies and the First Primarch himself. Warmaster Horus' peerless direction of battle, Praetorian Perturabo's constructed works, Magnus' psychic might and the unexpected aid of the supposedly dead Alpharius and his many traps led to the Siege lasting far longer than Sanguinius had predicted.

At the approach of the Eternity Gate, traitor forces, which had been reinforced by many Neverborn legions summoned by Sanguinius himself, found themselves on the verge of overrunning the loyalist lines. Only for news to reach the Arch-Betrayer that three Loyalist Legions were now converging on Terra with vengeance in their hearts. Lorgar's great remaining ship, the Trisagion, easily tore through the rebel fleet, giving both Angron and Fulgrim's Legions an opportune window to make planet-side as well as all three primarchs to reinforce the battle and bring hope back to the defenders.

Sanguinius raged as his forces fell apart. The complex plan tossed aside in favour of borderline medieval violence. Worse still was that Alpharius and Horus entered the fray to deal with the two Daemon Primarchs Leman Russ and Lion El'Jonson. Many heroes of the Imperium reaped a tally that day, Ezekyle Abaddon and Horus Aximand of the Mournival reaped a grim tally among White Scar forces, while Horus himself despatched Leman Russ into a coma that not even a Daemon Primarch would soon wake from and aided his brother in banishing the Lion to the warp. Both the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels were wracked with mutations and madness with the loss of their daemon-sires. Pressure mounted on Sanguinius and he rallied those left to him for one daring strike to end the war in their favour. Gathering Dorn, Manus, Vulkan and their respective bodyguards to his side, the Angel Fallen made one final push against the Eternity Wall, breaking through the Wall's defences, slaughtering hundreds of loyalist legionnaires as the four Traitor Primarchs made way into the Inner Palace.

While Perturabo awaited them at the Eternity Gate, Sanguinius saw fit to allow Dorn to finally end the enmity he held with the Lord of Iron. Dorn engaged the Praetorian, allowing the other three Traitor Primarchs to continue onwards. The only thing left standing in their way were the Custodes of the Emperor and Magnus, the three Traitor Primarchs tore through the Iron Warriors, Thousand Sons, and Custodes. Sanguinius, after wounding Magnus and thus clearing a path to the Throne Room, left Vulkan and Manus to act as sentinels lest any came to interfere.

His chance to kill the Emperor was once again ruined by Horus who, with the aid of Lorgar and Angron, was able to interrupt Sanguinius before he could kill their father. The two brothers duelled in the Throne Room of Terra, and it seemed once again the Dark Gods had made a jest. The two brothers were often said to be equals, and many in the Imperium joked that such a clash between them would be impossible to predict who would merge victor. But now they fought in mute silence, none to watch and none to laugh. Horus, however, was weak from combating Russ and the Lion while Sanguinius had the Four Powers bolstering him. The duel ended with the death of Hours, the First Found's final words lost to the pain of betrayal and Sanguinius cast Horus into the Throne Room's annex to cripple loyalist morale.

From His seat the Emperor heard the death-cry of Horus' soul and decreed that He would no longer stand by. The Emperor rose from His Throne, a golden blade clasped in hand and He looked down upon His fallen son. Sanguinius said nothing as his father faced him for this was the moment that all of this death and treachery had been leading to. This was the hour that his reign would begin, only needing the Emperor's death to usher in a new and glorious age.

* * *

 _Sanguinius looked on as his father walked down from the steps of His throne. Sanguinius adopted a combat stance long honed in war as neither said a word between them. What words could be said? Hs father knew what Sanguinius wanted and Sanguinius knew what He would do. In_ the Blade Encarmine _, Drach'nyen screamed in ecstasy, the taste of one demigod had fuelled his appetite, and through their symbiotic bond, Sanguinius too was filled with terrible strength._

 _His father's face was stern but His eyes were broken. Sanguinius had the same expression when he found the burden of his sons, what prompted him to become… this. Sanguinius knew that whatever came next only death and endless war would follow. Mankind thrown in a hopeless future and yet his father's eyes were thick not with grief over that. Not just from Horus' death either but from the state that Sanguinius had fallen too. Despite never giving Sanguinius the answer he yearned for._

 _And that filled him with so much anger._

* * *

Father and son crossed blades on that greatest and darkest day of Mankind. The Emperor, His dreams torn down by the insidiousness of the Dark Gods, battled Sanguinius at the base of the Golden Throne. The Dark Gods' eyes themselves gazed deeply into Terra, as the Angel Fallen was the one being in reality that could kill the Emperor. And the Emperor, weakened by His time keeping Neverborn back in the Webway, could not match the Chaos-empowered fury of Sanguinius. _The Blade Encarmine_ found its mark, and the First Sin delighted in the mortal wound it dealt its oldest foe.

Even as His body faltered the Emperor refused to give up. It would have been for naught if not for the aid of Magnus, who managed to break away from the combat in the annex, crawling and stumbling to the Throne Room's doorway. The Red Cyclops pooled the last of his psychic strength to stun the Angel Fallen and in those brief moments of fate, the Emperor's blade spewed holy fire as the God-Emperor himself bathed Sanguinius in His Holy Might. The Angel Fallen was killed and the rebellion was ended.

With their gene-sire dead and gone, the Blood Angels lost heart. Many fought and died to retrieve Sanguinius' body before the loyalists could claim it, Horus' corpse was also taken as a spoil of war under the supervision of Fabius Bile. Terrified with the loss of their father and the righteous vindication they deserved, the Blood Angels turned and fled, their ships being the first to break free of the void war above, and leaving their sworn allies to deal with the threat of Imperial retribution.

 **Post-Heresy: Angels of Broken Wings**

 _"The Angels of Blood fled from Holy Terra. They simmered with the shame of defeat. Tens of thousands were dead, their father and much of the Legion's leadership among them, and their allies cursed them for fleeing the Siege. The Angels of Blood could do nothing but flee to the Baal Tri-Worlds. There were… Sanguinius cannot die! He will rise! The One Who is Four will return! PRAISE BE UNTO THE SIGHT GIVEN TO ME! Praise be Chaos! Praise be the Angel Fallen!"_ \- Excerpt found on the last passage of Jecho the Mad's _Blood of the Angel_ , the final page seemingly written in Jecho's blood..

* * *

Out of all the Unholy Nine it can easily be said that the Blood Angels fell the furthest; once the vanguard of the Heresy now the most despised among the Traitor Legion. Their failure during the Heresy has led to them to becoming seemingly cursed by the Dark Gods in the form of the Black Rage. During this, they share their gene-sire despair and anger in his final moments, the realisation that he had lost causing such harmful effect on Sanguinius' psyche that it caused many of his sons to suffer from it.

When the Imperium initiated the Great Scouring to reclaim the territory lost to the traitors, one of the primary objectives were Traitor Legion homeworlds. Chogoris, Medusa and Deliverance would be destroyed by loyalist fleets, but not the Baal Tri-Worlds for they had disappeared. Whether as a gift to the Angel's remnant Legion for past services or as further punishment the Baal Tri-Worlds were teleported into the Eye of Terror, allowing the Blood Angels to retain their homeworlds in the new hell they found themselves in. Shortly after the Ninth Legion settled themselves into their new sanctuary of sorts, the Red Thirst returned, afflicting hundreds alongside the hundreds already suffering from the Black Rage, and these numbers would only grow in the millennia to come.

* * *

Arkio and Rafen, Brothers Damned

Even among the broken Legion of failed oaths and betrayers there are two among them that have been rising to great infamy, two brothers that live not just by the words of the Chaos Gods but by the decrees of Sanguinius to its fullest. Born among the filth of Baal to the dark cults who scrape a life there that worship the Blood Angels like gods, the two brothers have risen far in the ranks of the Ninth Legion.

Rafen and Arkio relied on each other during their childhood; for it was only together could these weakling boys kill the warp-vermin of Baal. Such savagery and their tenacious will to survive no doubt led to them being granted the cursed honour of joining the Blood Angels. The two boys resisted though, having no intention to be taken by the monsters. Only in the struggling to kill a fellow youthful cultist at the Place of Challenge, which amused the present Blood Angels greatly that sealed the fate of the two boys, as they were dragged off to be forcibly inducted into the next generation of Blood Angels. Unlike other Aspirants, the Blood Angels decided that if that had been brother in their lives as filth then it only made natural sense for them to be brothers in service to the Dark Gods. So a progenoid gland was split between the two boys, and after the pain-wracked days of becoming Astartes, two fresh Blood Angels walked among Baal. Both Rafen and Arkio had become soul-twisted as with all Blood Angels.

This alliance of trueborn brothers was something that gave Rafen and Arkio a key advantage over the members of their cultist tribe, and this brotherhood had only been solidified by their ascension into Astartes. This made plots of treachery easy for the two, and they quickly disposed their former warlord and simply split leadership of the warband between them. Word quickly spread of their dark powers, with some even claiming they were simply a Neverborn split between two bodies, or that they had been infused with Dark Eldar DNA which enhanced their cruelty even among the Blood Angels. Their raids into real-space were of great success and they even survived an encounter with Legion Master Garand of the Word Bearers, and in doing so earned the Word Bearers eternal hatred. Currently, the Brothers Damned work alongside the cast-out Inquisitor Ramius Stele, though to what ends none know.

* * *

The first great division of the Ninth Legion came to them during the days of the Scouring. While the other Traitor Legions fled to their homeworlds still in the Imperium, the Blood Angels quickly fled to the Eye of Terror for safety. There the many commanders and captains rallied around the Golden Sarcophagus, where Sanguinius' corpse laid and has remained so since. The legionnaire officers began to question among them who was to now lead the Blood Angels. The two primary choices were Azkaellon and Raldoron, the Guard Commander and the First Captain respectively.

Raldoron appeared to be the obvious choice as he had been Sanguinius' First Captain since the primarch's discovery yet Raldoron had grown critical of the primarch since his death and failure, and wished to distance the post-Heresy Blood Angels from what came before. Azkaellon was the choice for those still stringently loyal to the primarch's memory but the Sanguinary Guard Commander seemed to shun Legion and he soon left after arrival in the Eye, for places and reasons unknown. While talks began amongst the remaining lords, as Raldoron was not the prime candidate of many within the Ninth Legion, some wondered if personal combat would be effective in electing the new Legion Master, something Nassir Amit urged for fervently, though others contested that choice by refusing. Whilst debate continued and the Legion stood on the precipice of collapsing altogether a great daemon-fleet arrived to bombard Baal and its moon in retribution for the Golden Warrior's failure. This fleet was head by Samus, who had learned of Sanguinius' own choice to use him as glorified fodder, something which offended the Prince of the Ruinstorm.

While the assault was initially brutal and saw much loss of life and banishment, the after-effects of the attack had a damaging effect on the Tri-Worlds and the Blood Angels. Many contenders for Legion Master over the Tri-Worlds were slain, either slaughtered by the daemons or murdered by their brethren in the midst of battle, settling old feuds. The sheer speed that the Blood Angels fell apart made it clear that none could tether them together, at least not fully, and while Raldoron took the throne as Lord Overseer of Baal - his defeat and banishment of Samus quickly led to the collapse of the daemon-fleet and this gained him enough support to secure his rule over the Tri-Worlds- it seemed he was far more content in the power of that station rather than acting on such power and forcibly uniting the Legion under his lordship. After Samus' assault the Blood Angels knew something of peace but the Ninth Legion was failing in numbers and in dire need of replenishment.

After the failed attempt of unity, Raldoron proposed that all remaining warlords should at least pool together their resources for the time being to bring the Three Hundred Companies back from the brink. While many knew that Raldoron was merely covering his own losses suffered during Samus' assault, none could deny that the Ninth Legion needed more Astartes. So during the Legion Wars that waged throughout the Eye of Terror, the Ninth Legion withdrew, only making the occasional raid or skirmish against the other eight Legions to capture any slaves, weapons, warships, and gene-seed that were seen as easily acquired. And while none of the other banished Legions acted on this thievery in any significant way it became clear that they were only biding time to retaliate in brutal measure.

So, when the Blood Angels, now restored to some semblance of strength, attempted to take advantage of the Imperium's brutal wars of faith in the centuries following the Scouring; the other traitors retaliated. The Blood Angels saw Lorgar's consolidation of the various faiths into that of the Imperial Cult as a prime opportunity to activate those agents of Sanguinius that were never discovered and slowly convert the Imperium to the Dark Gods. Whilst the Imperium was divided between Chaos and Imperial faithful, the Blood Angels would return, establish a foothold and wait for the other Traitor Legions to join them and crush any opposition as they made their way back to Terra for a Second Siege. This Black Crusade could very well have spelled the end of the Imperium, as the few Loyalist Primarchs remaining were spread far and thin trying to maintain the bloated fragility that was the Imperium of Man. Due to so few Loyalist Primarchs remaining, the Imperial Legions spread too thin whilst still rebuilding, and Lorgar's Wars of Faith that saw billions die if they refused to bow down to the Ecclesiarchy, there would have been little initial resistance and none would have been able to defy the darkness of the Blood Angels.

It would prove ironic that what undid the Blood Angels ambitions was not the Imperium but Chaos itself. An alliance largely made up of Space Wolves, Dark Angels and Raven Guard sought to destroy the Ninth Legion for their gene-sire's failure. Loosely commanded by Lion El'Jonson, who was eager to feast on the Angel Fallen's corpse, the allied traitor war-armada fielded tens of thousands of Astartes and entire battle-groups of deadly warships, as well as champions and commanders whose feats were already legend and whispered by the gods. One was Bjorn the Fel-Handed, taking revenge in the place of his gene-sire. This Great Alliance of Chaos made their way to intercept the Blood Angels headed by High Warden Dahka Berus, a hero of the Great Crusade, a key traitor commander during the Heresy who carried out the will of his primarch, and one of the few that could boast of being raised by all Four of the Dark Powers to daemonhood. After all, with all they had lost, only revenge could be of satisfaction to those that had betrayed the Emperor for the shackles of Chaos. Berus and his host of some thirty thousand Blood Angels, a significant portion of the still somewhat decimated Legion, were ambushed prior to exiting the Eye of Terror. Raldoron, though having sent several hundred of his own warriors, chose to remain at Baal. The Lord Overseer did not wish to risk his newly acquired position over a distant campaign that may or may not succeed.

The Eye of Terror raged and burned in the following battle known as: the Retribution of Blood. Entire Daemon Worlds burned and were reborn in the Sea of Souls while the hated fought and killed each other. Neverborn fleets battle with hated iron, and Berus fought against Bjorn the Fel-Handed and the shadow wolves of Russ, the titanic duel ending with Berus' still raging daemonic head taken back to Ymir as a trophy of war. There he would remain for the next ten thousand years screaming in endless torment near Russ' comatose form. The Retribution of Blood was but another reminder to the Blood Angels that they were no longer the vaunted favorites of the gods. As for the First Primarch, the Lion of Slaanesh decided to take as many Blood Angels back to Sycorax as recompense for those gene-seeds the Blood Angels stole from his own Legion, gleefully giving them to his Interrogator-Chaplains to be tortured, and drinking their tears as a delicacy while they begged for death, always brought to the edge but never ended.

Thus were the Blood Angels' ambitions tempered and their Legion embroiled fully into the Slave Wars that have raged without pause since. While the Traitor Legions have lost tens of thousands to the Legion Wars in the Eye, it has tempered them and steeled their determination to see the Imperium cast down. In spite of the Blood Angels being despised and pushed to extinction several times over the ten millennia since the Great Heresy, the Ninth Legion's attempt in the Retribution of Blood to invade the Imperium has inspired many others and as a result countless Black Crusades have been cast into real-space with varying degrees of success.

The final and most recent of the Blood Angel setbacks once again comes from Baal itself and their dealings with the Neverborn. Baal Primus had always been a home for the Neverborn ever since Sanguinius accepted the truth of Chaos at Signus and many daemons were summoned to either be bonded to legionnaires or used as daemonic cannon fodder in the soon-to-erupt Heresy.

The latest attack on Baal came during second century of the Forty-First millennium, a blood crusade of titanic proportions aimed at Baal itself, from one of its own moons no less. Ka'Bandha, still brooding on his loss to the Angel Fallen at Signus so long ago, could not swallow toiling as a slave on Baal Primus to transhuman masters any longer, and longed for revenge. So the Great Daemon summoned many of his own warp-brethren that owed ancient pacts to him, and now fielding an army he descended on Baal in a fury of hellfire and warp-talons. The daemons quickly overwhelmed the legionnaire garrison on Baal Primus, slaughtering them and toying with the Astartes' souls, and led a massive daemonic assault on Baal. This led to Lord Overseer Raldoron deploying his entire warband, one of the largest within the Ninth Legion, to resisting and calling in any and all oaths of fealty or daemonic pacts they had. Many Blood Angels were lost to the black blades and sharp fangs of Khorne's hordes, the Tri-Worlds ravaged, especially the population from which the Legion recruited most of its Aspirants. The invasion itself only ended when Azkaellon returned and deigned to intervene. Leading his Sanguinary Guard which remained vigilant as sentinels over their gene-sire's corpse in the _Arx Angelicum_ on Baal, Azkaellon slew Ka'Bandha, leaving the Bloodthirster raging over being defeated a second time by a lord among the Blood Angels.

Still it is interesting that Azkaellon himself came to the aid of Baal, as the former Herald of Sanguinius had made his distaste for Raldoron known, furthermore he had not cared to come to the aid of the Blood Angels in their prior setbacks and defeats. So what is the importance of Baal, other than the being the tomb-world of a dead demigod, that would make Azkaellon feel that it was worth preserving. Perhaps as the Forty-First Millennium comes to a close, and prophets and seers loudly wail of the approaching End Times, that Azkaellon's goals will be at last revealed, a plan that will undoubtedly cause the universe to tremble...

* * *

The Sanguinor, the Shade of the Ninth

The Sanguinor is a mysterious being, one that even the Ninth Legion is not sure even exists. He is said to be a great figure, almost saint-like in appearance, wearing a golden mask of great beauty and wings the purest white. It is said to be seen among the battlefields of the Ninth Legion, often seen by the broken survivors of such a massacre. Many an Inquisitor has tried to interview one of the viewers of the Sanguinor but all have been broken mad by the sight of it, and the Thousand Sons themselves have very little proof of this… thing's existence, as only the slightest trace of warp-activity connected directly to it can be felt only on worlds that the Sanguinor has tread upon.

This has led to several prevailing theories over what the Sanguinor is, both within the Imperium and the Chaos Legions themselves. Is the Sanguinor a daemon prince of some kind that has found a way to torment the Ninth Legion for their failure, parading the glory and status thy once held? Or is he perhaps a legionnaire gone mad with the traitors' defeat in the Heresy who then dons on the golden armour and travels the galaxy securing victory for the Ninth Legion whenever elements of it find themselves on the brink of defeat so as to redeem the Angel's bloodline in the eyes of the gods? Or perhaps he is something else… something worse. As for the Blood Angels themselves, Raldoron himself has proclaimed that the Sanguinor is nothing more than a falsehood that the Ninth Legion should ignore. But the implications of such a thing are too great and many long to know this wraith's purpose in the Great Game. That is even if it dances to the tune of the Dark Gods.

* * *

 **Homeworld**

Luis Dante, Lord of Baal Secundus

The name of Dante has become a curse to the many loyalist worlds that the commander of Baal Secundus has tormented. Though only fourteen hundred years old - young by the ancient standards of Traitor Space Marines - Dante has held an iron grip on Baal Secundus; both due to his canniness and the alliance he has built with the moon's Blood tribes. Born upon Baal Secundus, the second of the Cursed Three, Dante was considered weak by the standards of his tribe, but nonetheless was pure enough to be given to the Blood Angels. Despite his stunted size and apparent malnutrition, Dante showed great promise through his utter belief in the Dark Gods and the teachings of Sanguinius.

His utter belief that the Dark Gods are the true masters of the universe emboldens those Blood Angels that surround him, leading them to greater of acts of cruelty in the name of Sanguinius and the Dark Gods. His pact with the Blood is built on respect for the human tribe of Baal Secundus, and unlike many of his kin, is noted to be well-loved after a fashion by the humans of Baal, they view him as a great Angel of Chaos, whose very presence will bring the Dark Gods' blessings upon them. Dante is also known for using xenos as part of his warband, Loxatl and Dark Eldar outcasts can be found among his horde, and Dante tolerates their presence - after all if the Alien acknowledges and pays tribute to the Dark Gods are they not brothers in Chaos. This has led many of his fellow captains and warlords, both within Raldoron's warband and that of others in the fractured Ninth, to despise Dante for embracing, even tentatively, xenos for was not the Great Crusade then the Heresy waged to ensure Mankind did not succumb to xenos influence and dominance? Raldoron allows this indulgence, though whether it is seen as a favour or to plant the seeds of the Lord of Baal Secundus' downfall is unknown.

Dante uses all means to venerate Chaos, and has even dabbled in arcane technology older than Mankind itself - something which further pushes the very boundary of heresy in the Blood Angels' eyes - and with the advice of his Dark Eldar allies, he hunts for the Hand of Midnight, an incredibly ancient weapon built by an advanced civilization that venerated Chaos to the same extreme the Blood Angels do. Dante believes that this ancient weapon plays into some fragmented passage of the _Infercius Angelus_ and so hunts down the weapon with a maddening vigour. Many Inquisitors and Warsmiths shudder to imagine what would become of the universe if Dante found it, for it could spell the end of the Iron Cages themselves.

* * *

With the Heresy's end, many of the loyalists had every intention of burning Baal and its moons to ruin as retribution for the many atrocities that Sanguinius and his sons committed. The remnant of the Ninth fled to their home system and watched in fascinated horror as the warp seemed to consume the Tri-Worlds of Baal, seemingly in anger at the Heresy's defeat. Many Blood Angels believed that Baal and its moons had become prizes for the Neverborn now, to be consumed and leaving the Blood Angels with nothing. Though some welcomed this, seeing it as atonement for their failure at Terra or for being fanatical in faith towards Chaos, in truth the worlds survived, though now bloated by warp-energy and twisted into a monstrous homeworld for a legion of monsters - a fitting fate one could say.

Despite their dark infamy among the Courts of Chaos, the homeworlds of the Blood Angels were not dragged and broken down in the void but left for the fleeing Blood Angels to take abode in. All three Baalite worlds are in a constant flux, prey to the whims of the Ruinous Powers as Neverborn hordes march and gather upon the surface alongside their Astartes allies. Another grievance the other Traitor Legions held against the sons of Sanguinius was that despite their immense failing, the Dark Gods still relocated the Tri-Worlds to safety whilst the homeworlds of the other Fallen Nine Legions fell victim to Exterminatus. That said, only a fool would try and take the Tri-Worlds of Baal now as they have been fortified by the Blood Angels under Raldoron and his Dark Mechanicum allies alongside the boons granted to the Ninth in the ten millennia since the Sanguinary Heresy.

Baal's two moons, once smaller than the Baal itself, have likewise grown to monstrous size - though are still smaller then Baal - and yet the two moons still revolve around the fallen planet like flies around a corpse. Each of these worlds has a Lord of Chaos ruling over it but all defer to the command of Raldoron - albeit grudgingly - and is seen as the Lord Overseer of all three Daemon Worlds. He rules over Baal itself from the throne room in the _Arx Angelicum_ , Legion's fortress-monastery. Baal is the most treacherous of the three worlds, akin to dark reflection of an Imperial Shrine World, with hundreds of imposing obelisks towers and dark shrines raised in glory to both Sanguinius and the Primordial Annihilator. Priests clad in black robes adorned with the red ruby teardrop of blood upon their chest and sprouting angel wings lead congregations of cultists, who often sacrifice themselves to the Ruinous Powers. Many Blood Angels are taken from these cults, as the cults will happily surrender their pureborn child to the overlords to ensure the child a better life among the filth of Baal - a twisted form of compassion, or perhaps ambition.

Wars are a constant on the surface of Baal, either fought between the cults alone or led by legionnaires who wish to settle old feuds begun centuries ago. Some fight to gain the attention of Raldoron as a cult that satisfies him enough may be allowed to ascend to the _Arx Angelicum_ where the fabled Golden Sarcophagus of Sanguinius is located - the rumored tomb holding the cursed holy remains of the Angel Fallen. Some have disputed this claim over the millennia however, as Azkaellon, forever loyal to Sanguinius, cares little for the Golden Sarcophagus, and so many believe that Raldoron simply uses this as a lie to keep the more fanatical elements of the Blood Angels under his control.

Secondly comes Baal Secundus, breeding ground of monsters. This world is riddled with all manner of mutants, half-Neverborn and things that not even the most corrupt of servants would recognize. The ruler of this world is Dante, a youngling by his dark kin's standards but no less dangerous for it. None would cross this growing Chaos Lord, and many hope that he will soon grow strong enough to challenge Raldoron as many see the former First Captain as lethargic in prosecuting wars within the Eye and more specifically the Long War against the Imperium. Another significant element of Baal Secundus is the Blood, the human tribe that raised Sanguinius. Though the Blood have tribes on all three of worlds of Baal, as a result of Sanguinius wars of unification, the Blood of Secundus are greatly favored and even feared.

And finally, there is Baal Primus, home of countless Neverborn hordes. This world fully belongs to the daemonic elements of the Blood Angels; Secondborn - mostly the Dreadwings - Cambions, and other daemonhosts are drawn to Baal Primus. Greater Daemons of all the gods fight for dominance of the moon, and so the lord of this world is forever changing. The longest ruler of this dark world was Ka'Bandtha but that ended when he led his foolhardy assault upon Baal itself and was deposed by Azkaellon - one of the few times the Angel's Shadow fought in defence of his homeworld. The current ruler of Baal Primus seems to be the Greater Daemon of Slaanesh, Shani Lusbane but for how long she'll rule is anyone's guess. Often the Blood Angels entreaty the Neverborn of Baal Primus to join them in their raids upon the greater Imperium, and if the raid is to the Neverborn's liking they will often join. Only a fool would dare and try lay low Baal Primus, as the Neverborn manipulate the warp itself, and can bend the entire moon to their will.

* * *

Astorath the Grim, the Wielder of Grief

There are few among the Blood Angels of the Heresy that respect the current generation of Blood Angels; these 'thin-bloods' have not known the true burden of Chaos' might, and are seen as slothful in the eyes of their elders. But there is one that is treated with the reverence that he deserves: High Warden Astorath, the Wielder of Grief. As stated Astorath is a High Warden of the Blood Angels, an executor of Fell Powers' will and executioner of those that are deemed unworthy by Legion standards. As such, it is often Astorath who is attributed with keeping the Ninth Legion a powerful force in recent years, having culled elements from dozens of warbands deemed weak in the eyes of the gods and incapable of carrying out their gene-sire's work to its completion. One thing that makes him such a deep concern to his fellow Blood Angels is his capacity to manipulate the Black Rage, and some argue he constantly exudes and revels it, infecting his fellow Blood Angels causing them to likewise fall to its insidious hold.

As expected of one of his position, Astorath travels to the worlds of the Imperium, often through the use of Space Hulks and warp tears, to preach the word of Chaos to the masses and in his wake Chaos cults follow, many rising up to listen to his word as he preaches the truths of Sanguinius, allowing him further reputation among his own brothers. Many have viewed him a threat to the Great Game, but his _Black Axe_ , taken from the hand of Khornate champion Helgroth Br'az, shows that Astorath is a dangerous combatant when it comes to close quarters, and never to be underestimated.

Astorath, as befitting the leader of the Wardens, travels amongst any and all warbands of the Ninth Legion unimpeded as none would risk angering a troubling a Warden of Sanguinius for these black armoured legionnaires carry the authority of their primarch with them still and few within the Legion would dare antagonize them.

Due to his practices, Astorath not only has to contend with his own traitor kin but both the forces of the Inquisition and the Word Bearers, who see his preaching as something abhorrent to their very being and even the Assassin Temples have a kill-on-sight order for Astorath's head, endlessly hunting him down whenever he appears in real-space. But the High Warden continues to evade his foes; both of the Eye and of the Imperium. And he continues to preach the word of Chaos and Sanguinius, though to what end only he can truly fathom, for who knows the mind of a zealot.

* * *

 **Organisation**

 _"Only when the eyes of the unbelievers have been open, at the dawn of the galaxy's final age, will the Ruinous Masters reveal the path of unity for He will come and remake what has been allowed to rot. The One who wields the Spear and the One who finds the First Sin will unite upon the wings of the Angel. And with this dark power, the dissident heretics of the Ninth Legion will bow as the memory of the dark lord becomes truth. A mighty one like unto the Gods, the dark princelings themselves will bow to His majesty. The Imperator of Chaos. One to rule over all, as Four becomes Two so shall Two become One and they shall be like unto a Legion."_ \- Extract taken from the Infercius Angelus.

* * *

Infighting is common within the Eye of Terror, the Heresy having broken the Traitor Legions at their apex, now leaving them to fight over little but scraps in the Great Storm's never-ending plethora of wars. The Damned Nine know nothing of loyalty now, it being only a faint memory, as it was murdered by them on the killing grounds of Isstvan III and Isstvan V. With the loss of their primarchs; either to death or the Great Game, the Traitor Legions do little but fight one another, though they will abandon this self-destruction to carry out raids and black crusades into the Imperium but only under capable and charismatic commanders.

Sanguinius' authority over his sons was absolute whilst he still drew breath, and the Angel Fallen's authority even managed to sway legionnaires from other gene-lines such as Marius Gage under his direct control. As expected by such a venerated warlord of Chaos, his death dealt a crushing blow to the cohesion of not only the traitor forces as a whole but the Blood Angels themselves. After the Tri-Worlds of Baal were dragged into the Eye of Terror, none could truly lead the Blood Angels again. Those few who had a brief moment to do so instead followed their own ambitions, such as Raldoron and Azkaellon.

While the Blood Angels did indeed keep something resembling a hierarchy, without their primarch to lead them their companies fell into a ruinous state as they even turned on one another without the guiding hand of Sanguinius to stay and redirect their bloodlust. Hundreds of warbands have erupted from this division, each led by a warlord ready to pursue their own ambitions for the glory of Chaos. Something of an oddity is that it is not uncommon for sons of Sanguinius to be leading armies of corrupted mortals, whether it be cultists or traitor regiments of the Imperial Army. No doubt these warlords long to feel as venerated as their dark gene-father once was and seek emulate him in an attempt to feel closer to his faded greatness.

While unification of the Traitor Legions deeply worries the Imperium as a whole, the likelihood of someone - or something - uniting the Blood Angels seems impossible. They have been broken by the grief of Sanguinius' death and those that have cast aside their gene-father cannot rally the rest. Once, the Half-Neverborn beast of a cloned Vulkan, created by Fabius, once proclaimed his right to lead the Blood Angels. What followed was said to be one of the bloodiest battles of the Legion Wars and the Primarch-Thing fled out of fear of Azkaellon's wrath, who found this claim to be not only a mockery but a personal affront.

* * *

Azkaellon, Searcher For The One

Azkaellon was once Sanguinius' shadow, lord of the Sanguinary Guard, the primarch's bodyguards and some of the greatest warriors within the Ninth Legion. Azkaellon held little actual authority over the Legion as a whole but he did have Sanguinius' trust in all matters and Sanguinius had Azkaellon's heart in return. And so, it was only natural that when Sanguinius fell to Chaos Azkaellon did so in turn, acting as the Herald of Sanguinius. Azkaellon was masterful politician and incredibly shrewd by Astartes standards - who often shunned such things - and so when the Heresy became underway in its fullest it was Azkaellon who often acted as Sanguinius' voice and emissary, as well as enforcing the full loyalty of those that served the Angel Fallen, and disposing with those that dared threaten his master's crusade. Azkaellon's efforts guaranteed that the traitor forces remained somewhat cohesive at times, even as the nature of the Dark Gods threatened to ruin that for much of the rebellion.

And for his service over the Heresy, Azkaellon was offered with the reward of daemonhood, while many of the Sanguinary Guard were turned into the most powerful of Secondborn bound to their primarch's will, Azkaellon now having the power beyond the ken of mortals still bowed to the authority of his father and soon was Sanguinius' enforcer in matters of the Warp as well as the Materium. Azkaellon hunted down and forced pacts onto various powerful daemons that dared to defy Sanguinius and with the power of these warp-predators at his control he was able to enforce Sanguinius' authority to new extremes during the Heresy, to the point that he once threatened to slay Ferrus Manus of the Iron Hands for his lack of control over his own sons. A bluff, many say, but one that not even bloodthirsty Manus was not willing to call.

During the Siege of Terra, Azkaellon could be seen fighting at the head of a mighty force of Blood Angels, keeping the loyalists from Sanguinius as he made his way to kill the Emperor. It is said that the moment that Sanguinius was felled, Azkaellon clutched his chest at the exact placement of where the Emperor's sword struck Sanguinius, and with an incandescent shriek he was banished back to the Warp, as his connection to his gene-sire had been severed by a power greater than even him. In the following centuries after the Heresy, Azkaellon made himself known in the Eye of Terror, no longer in command of the great armies he once had and with only a handful of the Secondborn Sanguinary Guard with him. It is telling that he did little to aid his fallen brothers but what is odd is that he did not claim leadership over the Blood Angels himself. Despite this, Azkaellon remains worshiped by the Ninth Legion who sees him as a demigod among the hierarchy of the Ninth. What the Guard Commander desires is difficult to guess, as Azkaellon, through means unknown even to the likes of the Word Bearers and Thousand Sons, seems to move between the Iron Cages with ease - much to the frustrated anger of both the Iron Warriors and their Inquisition allies.

Many believe that Azkaellon follows the word of the _Infercius Angelus_ and it searching for the One that can unite the Blood Angels again. Perhaps this will explain why he did little as the Legion he once firmly fought for tore at themselves, perhaps the Herald of Sanguinius believes that these conditions will breed the 'ultimate'. The One that will unite all of Chaos and cause the galaxy to shudder...

* * *

 **Combat Doctrine**

 _"We bear the Mark of Ruin, and know the gods by their true name. And so, it is through them we wage glorious war, offering a feast of souls and corpses in their name._

 _We shall break them with the iron fist of Khorne, shattering their morale under our martial prowess._

 _We shall whisper the sweetest indulgences with the words of Slaanesh, and watch them beg to be embraced into our arms._

 _We shall poison their flesh with the pox of Nurgle, causing their will to break and flesh to slough._

 _We shall utter the words that should never be spoken of Tzeentch, and break their minds by its unfathomability._

 _This is the work of Chaos Undivided and we shall be the vanguard of Eternity."_ \- From the Infercius Angelus, the Six-Hundredth Verse of the Sixty-Sixth Chapter.

* * *

As expected of those who worship Chaos Undivided, the Blood Angels fight to follow these beliefs. And so, the tactics of the Blood Angels depend upon the warband and which of the foul gods that they worship. Each of the warbands have their own preference and, unlike those other Undivided legions such as the Space Wolves or White Scars, the Blood Angels fight with the variety approach to warfare as taught to them by the Angel Fallen.

It could be said that the Blood Angels remain one of the more adaptable among the traitors for this doctrinal flexibility as they have not hampered themselves by serving only one of the gods, and as such their flexibility make them difficult to predict. Ironically, due to their weakness in the eyes of the Dark Gods this does little to bolster their infamy and in truth angers their former allies, seeing them as mocking their tactics - or simple outrage that the broken Legion would dare have the audacity to ape them.

Those among the Blood Angels have fully given into the rage that festers in their hearts (those among the Black Companies and those afflicted with the Red Thirst), throwing themselves into combat without a care for losses. They sacrifice their blood and skulls for the Lord of Blood, and often or not these servants often thin the veil of real-space to allow many Neverborn of Khorne to fight alongside them. Those who fly the banner of Tzeentch will often employ the use of sorcery and deceit, and as such often have many dark sorcerers among their ranks to serve the Changer. Warbands of Nurgle make use of the rot and perseverance of Nurgle, often fighting to infect their foes to Nurgle's will if anything. Slaves of Slaanesh delight in the pleasure that they gain from each kill, their brains often altered to only feel pleasure touch when committing acts of murder as they cry out maddening prayers to the Prince of Pleasure.

Those among the Blood Angels that serve the Primordial Annihilator in its purest form are often the most dangerous of their kind however. They are not so consumed by following the will of their dread deity and as such often are united under more dangerous cohesion. Over the many years of warfare against the most savage of the Broken Nine, this has led to the Blood Angels to be incredibly dangerous despite their reputation. After-all, after fighting their own kin and what Neverborn armies sent to claim their souls, the Blood Angels have been hardened by this combat making them incredibly dangerous, as they will fight to the last as an act of sheer spite - and in doing so will try and drag their opponent to their death too. The leaders of the Blood Angels are often the crux of their force as it is them that bellow out the orders or prayers to the Dark Gods. And it is them that all surrounding Blood Angels defer to out fear of their dread might.

The Iron Warriors are often the ones that bear the brunt of the Blood Angels' rampage. Crashing into their Iron Cages like a starving blood-mad beast, and as such the Iron Warriors are often the only ones that truly comprehend the danger still present in the Blood Angels as the many remaining loyalists view them as broken and dying. And yet the Black Crusade's done in the name of Sanguinius and the Ruinous Powers serves as a constant reminder of the Blood Angels' drive to still live. And a testament to the legacy of Sanguinius, and the loyalties to the Dark Gods, for there is still ruin for the Blood Angels to wreck in the name of the Primordial Annihilator.

 **Beliefs**

 _"Hail unto the Dark Powers and be blessed in turn._

 _Understand and respect their power lest you burn._

 _The Four Dark Kings united under the One._

 _And soon the Galaxy will burn once it has begun."_ \- Extract taken from the mad Baalite scryer, Jecho from the _Blood of the Angel_.

* * *

For the sin of being the first to embrace Chaos, the Blood Angels do not worship it, they consume it. To be a Blood Angel is to be damned forever, for there is no return from madness for the warriors of the Unholy Ninth, only damnation. All of the Traitor Legions feel some modicum of regretful understanding towards their fall to darkness - not the Blood Angels. They are filled with an unholy rage towards all, seeing the galaxy filled with reasons for their fall, and they revel in the madness of darkness they leave in their wake. They do not follow Chaos simply for favours from the Fell Four, but because they believe that only they understand Chaos at its core. Only they know its dark philosophies, contradictions and nature.

The Blood Angels cry out to Chaos, longing for its eye upon them once more for they alone know the true power of the Ruinous Powers. As such the Blood Angels worship Chaos Undivided: the Four Kings revered in equal measure by all their names. They see Chaos as the desired masters of Mankind, believing that only through the unity of Neverborn and Man can humanity rise to their deserved status as Daemon Princes - under the banner of the Blood Angels. To become immortal beings to transcend all that would hold back Mankind, that is the destiny that the Blood Angels strive to achieve. To separate the strong from the weak is a stark necessity for when the apotheosis of Mankind at last comes.

As such Neverborn are exalted among the Ninth Legion, some Legions often cast aside their daemonic allies viewing them as capricious and uncaring to the plight of their mortal allies. In comparison, the Ninth venerates daemons and all their kind, seeking their touch as daemonhost or ascending to daemonhood. The Dark Gods' displeasure with the Ninth often means that the path of daemonhood ends with Spawnhood and the Ninth Legion typically deploys these mutants as bolter-fodder; they view it as the fate such creatures deserve for their failure. Some despair over these while others view it as a challenge, to commit deeds dark enough to atone for their failure and allow their ascension in the eyes of all four of the Dark Gods.

The Angel Fallen has many shrines built in his honour and it is not uncommon to see altars built to him next to those of the gods. Many seek his infamous weapons of old, _the Spear of Telesto_ and the _Blade Encarmine,_ that have been lost for many millennia as it is foretold in the _Infercius Angelus_ that whoever can collect these two mighty weapons of old that it will herald the return of a 'Dark Imperator'. Raldoron cares little for the Prophecy of Blood; his brothers believe he is responsible for the loss of the weapons to begin with. Whether he did or not, it is without question that the Lord Overseer has no intention of leaving his throne. Not even for his gene-sire.

 **Recruitment and Geneseed**

* * *

The _Infercius Angelus_ , Tome of the Damned

The First Fell Book of Chaos, the Tome of the Fallen, the Gospel of the Universe's True End. These are just a few of the names given to the most damned Chaos tome ever wrote - penned by the Angel Fallen himself. The _Infercius Angelus_ was written throughout the Heresy, beginning when Sanguinius bound the First Sin to his blade, and ending at his death at the Siege. The text is a collection of heretical texts that Sanguinius discovered in his fall alongside his own writings about the nature of the gods, and the true names of many of their greatest Daemons. Filtered throughout the tome are prophecies and predictions, as it seemed the Angel Fallen predicted his death or at least the possibility of it.

During the last days of the Heresy, when the Blood Angels fled from Terra, the tome was lost - and none knew where - leading the Blood Angels to despair with the loss of their gene-father's magnum opus. Many passages have appeared in the hands of fanatics among the Blood Angels. Some have attempted to rewrite the tome from the whispers of Neverborn but the lies of daemons are never to be trusted, and as such many copies fall short of its true majesty.

Many among the Inquisition have likewise tried to find the tome, in an attempt to understand the Archenemy and how best to destroy them. Any who find and read even the smallest extract of this tainted manuscript go insane or declare the falsehood of the God-Emperor, turning their backs on His Light. One notable Inquisitor is Ramius Stele who fell centuries ago after reading an extraction of the _Infercius Angelus_. He believes that only through Chaos can Mankind be saved, though none know what he read to believe this. As such the Word Bearers go to great lengths to see any and all sources claiming to know the location or owning a page of the _Infercius Angelus_ destroyed, for who knows what dark power it will imbue into its reader. Entire worlds have burned for the heresy of bearing some of the Chaos-tainted words of the Arch-Betrayer.

* * *

Upon the world of Baal, and despite the condition of the Eye of Terror, the world can sustain many tribes of humans, the descendants of the first Baalites that declared themselves for Sanguinius. Ironically, the once mutant-hunters now find themselves riddled with many mutations, after all none can stave of the warp's touch for long. This creates a difficulty for the Blood Angels as finding subjects to become Astartes, and many view this as another sign of the Ruinous Powers' disfavour towards the Unholy Ninth. And with their decay, the Ninth legion has fought tooth and nail to ensure their own survival. Often slaves have been taken from the other Traitor Legions, and they have been raised up as loyal Blood Angels.

On the occasion that the Blood Angels do break through the Iron Cages, they steal as many slaves as possible, raising the male children of these slaves to battle-brothers and multiple warbands have several Apothecaries for this task. The Blood Angels are indeed one of the few Traitor Legions that still respect their Apothecaries - no doubt due to their survival being dependent on them. Wars have been fought over whole worlds when two Blood Angel warbands clash, both sides fighting for the right of plunder and possible recruits. Such is the price of untainted Aspirants in the eyes of the Blood Angels.

As for the Blood Angels themselves, many suffer from minor mutations of some kind. The most common mutations are often some monstrous fangs fighting for room within their jaws, a mane of feathers or small nub like wings protruding from their backs. Some have more extravagant mutation such as great horns, or tentacle limbs and each mutation is seen as a form of cursed blessing by the Dark Gods - that is until the degeneration to Spawnhood. Experiments conducted have shown that the Baalite origin of the Blood Angels somehow mutated their genetics, and even defied the Emperor's science, leading to these prolific mutations. No doubt due to Baal's own past with the radiation, and the possibility of it being due to the warp's meddling, this explains why the Blood Angels are so mutated even compared to their own kin. It is in their nature to be so.

Another prevailing theory among the Iron Warriors and the Magos Biologis of the Mechanicus is that the mutation of the Blood Angels' gene-seed which had led to them entering states of deepest despair and hyper-violent grief, this 'Black Rage' seems to be due to the rise in chemicals within their physiology, and causes the Blood Angels to have weaponized this genetic flaw in the form of the Black Companies, those afflicted with the Black Rage or Red Thirst who are then thrown in to overwhelm any who oppose them, usually used as bolter-fodder for those legionnaires that still retain a sense of sanity.

* * *

Raldoron, the Lord Overseer of Baal

The Lords of Chaos that sit upon the thrones of their Traitor Legion homeworlds are all reputed to be mighty warriors; indeed many of them are Daemon-Primarchs or Daemon Princes, or clearly blessed by the Pantheon enough to keep control over an entire world. Raldoron is neither of those things and the former First Captain does little but secure his own strength while leeching off of the Ninth's own; causing the Blood Angels to seek deeper into decay.

Raldoron was once the First Captain of the Blood Angels and served faithfully alongside Azkaellon as Sanguinius' equerry. He knew of the curse that plagued the Blood Angels, and like Sanguinius, feared for the fate of his brothers should it ever be discovered. And so, when Sanguinius made his pact with the Dark Gods for their protection, Raldoron was inspired by the powers that Sanguinius imbued his Legion with. But as the Heresy began to move along, Sanguinius soon became dismissive of his First-Captain, uncaring to him when servants such as Marius Gage and Azkaellon were far greater at providing results.

His reverence to the Chaos Gods soon turned to antipathy, and when the Heresy ended in the loyalists' favour, it was Raldoron who gave the Blood Angels the order to retreat, forever damning his legion in the eyes of the rest of the Nine Fallen Legions. It was him that took the title of Lord Overseer, and on his orders took ownership Baal and its moons when they were taken into the warp by the Dark Gods and Raldoron slayed any that threatened to usurp him. Despite his uncaring standing and his general dislike among even the Ninth, he serves as a figurehead for the Blood Angels, and while he is deeply resented by many it cannot be denied that Raldoron is a dangerous Chaos Lord. It is small mercy for the galaxy that he cares little for Sanguinius' dream now, and instead broods upon his throne. Attempting to keep his control over the Legion he sees that betrayed him.

* * *

 **Battle-Cry**

The Blood Angels no longer have a unified battle-cry; a sign of their broken loyalties. One that is often use in equal measure among many warbands is the cry of: " _For the Blood of Sanguinius and to the Dark Gods!_ ", " _Sanguis De Tenebris!_ " and " _Let the Galaxy burn_!" But depending on their loyalty to the primarch's memory and which member of the Pantheon that they worship, the maddening prayers that cry to the heavens will change to reflect this. Other times the Blood Angels are heard to simply let out gasping shrieks that are said to be between laughter and crying, something which is said to break the hearts of all mortals. Some Blood Angel warlords will simply cry their own titles, or the loyalty to what other greater lord that they serve as many Blood Angels have sworn themselves to varying warlords of different gene-lines over the millennia.

The corruption of the Blood Angels is so great that their very presence is said to break those around them. As if they too are imbued with the despair the Blood Angels felt the day the Emperor felled Sanguinius. Many that have been in the dark presence of a powerful Blood Angel warlord will often fall to their knees, wracked with grief and dark despair realising that the flood of Chaos cannot be stopped, and only through submission can you hoped to be spared.

* * *

 _I do not know who I am but I know I am the future as well as the present and the past. More so than these creatures that I am drawn to, I follow their path through this hell and observe them as they give into their despair. Antipathy is the path of failure, and these Angels of Blood have given into their stagnation. I do not know why this causes something akin to rage burn in my hearts but it does so. My rage knows no bounds as I stare unto the Tri-Worlds and see an uncaring Overseer._

 _My half-incorporeal body stalks through all the worlds of the Dark Gods and I see corrupted princelings cavort to the will of their Great Game. I understand it inherently and yet I do not know how, what am I but a simple wraith? How do I understand the complexity of their game? And yet I hear some roar in the cracks between worlds, a voice of fire and rage bellowing for freedom. A dark dragon trapped as am I. Are we the same? Is this creature and myself bound?_

 _I look upon a blade left on a world, and I feel it writhe at my coming, yearning for its master's return. It can see me and yet none else can. The blade is dark and transcribed in hate, its inhabited intelligence shivers at my watching. It knows me but I do not know it. What a curiosity, that a simple sword can see me where Neverborn princes and ascended demigods cannot. I feel… bound to it. Closer than even a brother._

 _There are few that walk among these Angels that are deserving of my respect, and my glory. I watch two boys, brothers in blood, fight for glory unknowing that my eyes are upon them. I stare into the abyss with a sight akin to the Changer and I feel drawn to them, their drive and power fuels me and I feel myself grow in their presence. Their purity._

 _I remember echoes of a great war, one that I was at the vanguard of… I think. I see something, is it me? I see a dark lord, clasping a blade bound in sin and murder - the blade that knows of me. I see two great wings and they wrap themselves around me. A wraith I may be, but a wraith transcends all. I see these wings encroached around the twins and I feel the pull of destiny once more._

 _I feel!_

 _And I know!_

 _My oath will be fulfilled and my deeds remembered!_

 _AND SOON MY WINGS SHALL SPREAD AND DROWN THIS GALAXY IN MY GLORY!_

* * *

A/N: Here they are, the Unholiest of the Unholy Nine: The Blood Angels. I must say I had a lot of fun coming up with the ideas for this index as this was the index of the arch-traitor legion. Allowed me to dabble in all sorts really. Here Sanguinius' fear of his wings didn't galvinise him to stay true to the Emperor's dream as with canon but more break him down into a more malleable host for the Dark Gods. The Tri-Worlds were a particular highlight for me to write as was Azkaellon as they let me really get to grips with the sheer power of the Warp. All the madness and monsters that can be bred from Chaos.

I hope you all enjoy the path of madness and heresy to be found within in this chapter as I did writing it.

As always a big shoutout to Tanner151 for his aid in fine tuning these chapters for me. Go and check out his works as they're super-good! As always thank you for reading, please leave a review and have a good one!


	10. Index Astartes: Iron Hands

**Iron Hands: Golems of the Lord of Skulls**

 _Among the Unholy Nine, it is said that the Tenth Legion are the most broken among them. Once these formidable warriors fought for the Emperor's dream out amongst the stars, fighting and conquering worlds innumerable for a purpose that was greater than all others: to cast Mankind triumphant. The Tenth Legion though fell upon a dark path and now serve the dark whims of He That Drowns in Blood, forever slaughtering for the Lord of Skulls' base approval. They scorn the weakness of flesh, seeing steel and metal as stronger. And a result, many Iron Hands are little different from servitors now, so far is their moral and physical corruption. Metal, blood, oil and the skulls of the vanquished are all the Iron Hands have to offer their Blood God now, while deep within their Daemon Homeworld in the Great Eye Ferrus Manus continues to attempt to rebuild his hands of magma and hate, so that when the final chapters of the galaxy's life begin to be written he and his Iron Hands will be at the forefront of that damned crusade…_

* * *

 **Origins**

Blood lust is inherent to all creatures, no matter the false pretences they cloak themselves in. It is a simple bygone nature of one's need to survive, to claw one's existence into dreadful being. To stave off death for a few moments longer, any creature is capable of fury to see their foe torn down. Each moment of rage does nothing more than feed the oldest of the Chaos Gods: Khorne, known in other tongues and to other species as Kharnath. Though a brutal god, Khorne is also known for a dark cunning. Unlike his kin Khorne distains the twisting paths of fate and prefers more simple roads. These roads are still no less effective as shown by the fall of the Tenth Legion, that even a vaunted son of the Emperor could fall to brute anger like a common dog.

Like all of his kin, the Tenth Primarch's fall can be found in dark texts and heretical tomes that were spared by the Inquisition during the Seventeenth Legion's purges in the years after the Sanguinary Heresy. It is said that the dark world which became the Tenth Son's home was Medusa, a world that could be found with Segmentum Obscurus, harbouring near the Eye of Terror and its corrupting presence. It was a world rich in history but barren in its landscape, a once great world filled with the ruins of past civilisations. From the scarred depths and piercing mountains hail monsters that roam the planet, akin to a legion of golems that butcher all before them.

Despite its foreboding nature, Medusa was once a great world. It was home to some of the first explorers to leave the safety of Terra and they pushed themselves onward into the dark depths of the void's abyss to discover Medusa. It was a world rich in mineral resources and its vast size meant that the results would be plentiful for those explorers. However, the fault came with the great ships these explorers used. They were basic in many ways and not yet used to the warp's turbulence. Lacking that and the eye of the Astronomican to guide them led to many of them falling to madness.

It was this turn to violence which led to the ruin of Medusa as while the colonists had strove to greatness and proven Mankind's mettle in the face of the dread world they still fell to a ravage bloodlust. Turning on each other during the darkness of the Long Night, the colonists would cry out to the dark power that compelled their rage, beckoning the Fell Powers to elevate them in power. Like the techno-barbarians of Old Terra, the colonists augmented their bodies to better tear at the flesh of their neighbours. All bonds of honour or friendship were forgotten in those days. The only mantra that began to matter was that of the predator and prey. Only one's capacity to kill marked the difference to the colonists.

What prompted this is unknown, but the long lasting theory among the Inquisition is that Medusa began to harvest a large population of psykers amongst its populace. The witches are an affront to the likes of the Blood God and many believe that given he had marked Medusa as his own that perhaps he prompted the violence in an attempt to cull the witchkin's population. This only escalated the rage of the populace, many whispering that the Blood God's laughter could be heard in the planet's desolate biting winds. The massacre led to the downfall of Medusa and the world became an irradiated wasteland in the wars that followed. As for the populace; gone were the noble colonists, all that was left was a violent remnant of what they were, primitive clansmen that walked among the ruins of their forefathers seeing them as great temples.

So Medusa, a world that might have one day been able to industrially compete with Sacred Mars in a better time, fell to ruin and its people fell to their more primal ways. And it was upon this world that Ferrus Manus, Tenth Son of the Emperor, fell upon in a meteor of fire that lit the pollutant and ash-thickened cloud sky of Medusa. Unlike many of his kin, Manus was more or less full-grown when he left his incubation gene-pod as the travel among the warp had been one of the longest. Many theorise that this perhaps is what led to his fall to Chaos.

The thunder of Manus' coming was not unnoticed, however, as the shattering of his impact awoke an ancient terror; a beast which is only known as Asirnoth. The creature was a great wyrm of silver metal. The beast is believed to harken back to the darkest days of Old Night though some among the Mechanicum believe its origins to be even more ancient. Whatever the case, the moment Manus tore himself free from his gene-pod he was beset upon by the monster, silver claws gouging at Manus' flesh. But Manus was no sheep to cower in fear; he was a son of the Emperor and rose to meet the monster of silver and death.

* * *

 _Manus barely had time to breathe before he was forced to do as he was forged to do: fight. The beast lunged at him as it tore itself free from the prison of rock that he had inadvertently freed it from. The primarch was barely given any chance to breathe in the air or to feel the cool wind on his face. Manus felt anger build up inside him like a hot fire as he watched the serpentine shape charge towards him._

 _Thunder roared above the skies of Medusa as lightning split the clouds, the battle below echoing such wanton destructive cacophony. The clash was like that of an Old Terran legend, that of a giant wrestling with a dragon. Such stories were seen as children's nonsense but here and now it was magnificent in a terrifying way. Manus planted his heels into the ravaged earth as he screamed in agony to slow the charging wyrm. His muscles screamed in pain as he was forced to contest a demigod's strength with that of a monster from the Age of Strife._

 _He reared his head back and brought it down upon the great dragon and metal buckled under the force like a hammer on an anvil. With another scream, the primarch tossed the dragon aside, and the beast skidded onto the earth before being pierced upon the jagged rocks. Manus sighed, hoping that he had slain the monster, only to watch as it tore itself free and the wounds healing within seconds. The demigod panted as blood leaked out of his jaw as he stared at the monster. He would not fall to some subhuman beast. But before they could continue their combat, the great wyrm turned to withdraw, dismissing him as nothing more than an irritant prey animal, not an alpha to be feared._

 _Manus could only watch as the monster climbed down the peak, dragging its great bulk down the battle-torn mountain and onto the shattered plains below. In his heart he felt a fire begin to burn. What was this mindless beast to dismiss him? He watched the monster crawl and knew he would not let this be the end. There would be a reckoning._

* * *

The Tenth Primarch began to hunt the great silver wyrm across devastated Medusa. It seemed that nothing could slow the Tenth Son's hunt for his nemesis, the monster's dismissal of him prompting his tireless pursuit. In his hunt, Manus came into contact with many of the clans to be found among Medusa and they marvelled at the sight of him. He was a figure of myth to them and they rallied around this mighty figure. Manus himself seemed to care little for his followers, though he did respect the strength that many of them exhibited. His mind was elsewhere, focused on greater things than the human clans that proclaimed him the Gorgon - a great giant of Medusa's folklore.

Tales began to spread of the primarch's exploits as he crossed the vast plains of Medusa. It was said that he was the first man to travel the entire length of his world, braving the ruinous wilderness of a civilisation's grave. He had laid low many more great mechanical monsters that rose in the wake of the silver wyrm of Medusa; earning the deep and abiding respect of the Medusan clans. Still, the exploits did little to alleviate the primarch's boiling anger. They were all distractions to him, just distractions to be torn apart in search for his true quarry.

And after the many years of hunting, Manus finally managed to corner his quarry. Asirnoth was trapped near a great lake of lava, something which even the beast itself seemed perturbed by. In its years of freedom, Asirnoth had gained a reputation equal to that of the primarch, whole kingdoms had been destroyed by the monster and even its fellow beasts seemed to be afraid of it. The clash between giant and dragon seemed inevitable and their second bout shook Medusa to its very core. Great floods of lava erupted and mountains rose and cracked as the primarch and ancient terror clashed. Weapons broke against the spine of Asirnoth leaving Manus to rely once again on his own flesh and rage. He was relentless, even by the standards of his own kin and the great duel only ended when Manus forced Asirnoth into the great lava pool.

* * *

 _The Tenth Primarch was tired, as impossible as such a thing could be. The battle had taken so much from him. The monster writhed and screamed as he held in into the lava depths. The hot magma purified and burned, Asirnoth was powerful but it was not indestructible. Manus' rage eclipsed its brute instincts and it had faltered. It clawed and fought but he forced it deeper into the lava. He ignored the pain in his hands and focused all upon his will, his urge to conquer._

 _Soon, Asirnoth was no more, nothing but scraps of metal sinking into molten depths. Manus roared, both victory and in pain. It was unbearable for him. His breaths were heavy and low as he pulled his arms out of the molten current. He expected only scorched remnants to remain but instead what he drew were hands encased in the metallic lifeblood of Asirnoth. Silver and bright and… cold, unfeeling. Manus felt nothing from them as he flexed his fingers. He raised his great hands to his face before smashing them into the ground below. He felt nothing but the crater created spoke volumes of their strength. Strength befitted him, invigorated him._

 _Ferrus Manus began to laugh as felt his rush of victory and the gifts that he had earned from them. He knew that this was the beginning of his ascension._

* * *

With the great wyrm dead and his obsession conquered, Manus began to rally Medusa's clans to him, wishing to create something stronger than before. Those primitives began to see Manus as something of a monarch and soon most clans paid homage and fealty – with those defying him destroyed for none would deny the primarch his due. Some clans venerated Asinroth as a predator-god and so were the first to feel the Gorgon's wrath. Most of the clans fell to their knees in submission others didn't, in the end it didn't matter as the war-hungry demigod broke them all. Though he lead the clans to war there was one enemy he could not defeat: Medusa itself.

The primarch knew that the Medusans needed the resources within the once-great cities to thrive and so led them to the ruins of their forefathers. Some declared this to be heresy but those were silenced by the Gorgon's supporters for they knew the Sage Monarch would not stand for the gibbering of old men. The weak and infirm were left to die in the days of their great march while only the strong survived. As for the primarch it made no difference, if the people were not strong enough to follow him then they were worth nothing to him. Still, with a primarch at their head the great journey was assured and the clans of Medusa did indeed recover a great hove of resources. And from this, Manus envisioned a great city in which the clans of Medusa could gather and be ruled from.

Set in a cleared plain of relative safety and with the primarch's mind directing, the Medusans quickly put the hoarded resources and recovered rubble to good use, constructing a great city for them to thrive in and Ferrus Manus, as befitting a son of the Emperor, quickly took the throne of the crown jewel. In the ensuing years, the Medusans themselves changed, many of them augmenting themselves with the technology taken from the wastelands, mirroring their great king in their augmentations. The Gorgon allowed it as he fully believed that the flesh was weak, that it would grow soft with age while steel and iron would endure forevermore.

While a brutal regime it cannot be said that the people of Medusa did not prosper under the primarchs rule and while the population size of Medusa did indeed diminish during the Gorgon's frequent purges, ridding the human gene-pool of weakness and deformities, those that died left far more resources for the survivors. To the Medusans it seemed that Ferrus Manus' creed was for their benefit. They began to see their own flesh as something which weighed them down and those that doubted the Sage Monarch were quickly put to death - without the Tenth Son's orders - as such loyalty did gain rewards from the Gorgon of Medusa.

When the Great Crusade found Medusa it was said that the Emperor was somewhat shocked to hear of his son's time in the incubation pod. Some say the Emperor was intrigued to see the results of such growth, while others claimed that the Emperor expressed a father's concern for a son who was forced onto a cruel world. In truth, many things that occurred on Medusa were kept secret by order of the Regent of Terra and the Legio Custodes. It was said that the Emperor and Ferrus Manus talked on the nature of strength, power, technology, the Medusans, and other matters of philosophy and morality, with the Emperor expressing concerns about the technology many of them have augmented themselves with wantonly. Manus was said to point of the hypocrisy of such judgement with his own hands as proof, stating that he should not be exempt from such judgement just because he was created by the Emperor.

The Mechanicus themselves were made to make a public decree of the nature of Medusa and its inhabitants, declaring that there was no heresy to be found in the Medusans and that they were simply the product of a dangerous world, not unlike the gangs of Cthonia. Some argue that this was the first mistake and that by allowing the corruption of Medusa's technology to become a part of something as pure as the Great Crusade. To this day, the Mechanicus are cursed for this folly - with many forgetting the fact that it was carried out on the Emperor's orders.

 **The Great Crusade**

 _"We are made to be weapons: nothing more, nothing less. My kin may delude themselves on what they are and what they are meant to be, I will not. We are breakers of worlds, the greatest blade wielded by the greatest hand. There is no higher purpose to us only to fight and kill. There is no higher purpose other than to follow the orders of our lords. You are my warriors first and my sons seconds. My hands of iron, we shall march into the very jaws of death for this ideal. No delusions, only steel. And our hands will wield Mankind's future."_ \- Ferrus Manus, the Gorgon of Medusa, upon seeing his sons, the Iron Hands, for the first time.

* * *

In the Forgotten Library of Magnus the Red; in which the uncensored history of all the Space Marines Legions can be found, it was written that the Iron Hands were first known as the 'Storm Walkers'. Prior to finding Manus, the Storm Walkers were found at the forefront of the Great Crusade. Their rolls of honour were notable, their victory toll within the Great Crusade well-known by the Imperium's masses. Even without their gene-sire, the Storm Walkers gained notability for crushing the Mek-Ork Empire of Gorbad Ironjawz. The Storm Walkers lived up to their name and preferred the use of heavy weaponry to break their foes under a storm of bolter fire and the use of armoured mechanised divisions.

When Manus reunited with his sons though that name became forgotten and in turn the name Iron Hands replaced it - in honour of their primarch. A change came about the Tenth Legion with the return of their primogenitor. While the Storm Walkers were not known for mercy, they were known for exhibiting restraint when necessary. But with the induction of Medusan gene-stock and the Gorgon at the helm the Iron Tenth soon adopted a more brutal style of warfare. The trials of Medusa weighed heavy on Manus which showed the violent mood swings the Gorgon suffered. In his better moods, Manus was a personable primarch to at least his brothers and own sons, but while in his darker moods he was a brute who was willing to kill any who slighted him - even something as minor as simply being a bearer of dire news. Obsession set itself dangerously deep within the primarch in the years after being discovered as he devoted himself and his sons to the deaths of all their foes, going a step further than oaths and fealty.

In Manus' warped mind-set, weakness of any kind was an unforgivable sin to him. As such, the mortals that fought under the Iron Hands suffered the most. The Gorgon saw humans as inferior by their very nature, nothing more than children and fools that were not worth fighting for - in truth, Manus fought only for his father due to the respect of his strength. Mortal units could do little to keep up with the Iron Hands, and cases of regiments simply disappearing under the Tenth Legion's command began to occur with disturbing frequency - no doubt worn to death by the unceasing Iron Hands, or as some fearfully whispered, quietly purged due to not meeting the Medusan legionnaires' exacting requirements. Xenos and human empires were ground to dust by the Iron Hands, and as for the Legion itself, they began to dabble in extensive voluntary augmentation. They followed the creed of their father: flesh is weak, iron is forever. While all the Legions used prosthetic augments for limbs lost in battle it was only the Iron Hands that willingly lopped off limbs to replace with cold steel when the need was not required.

It was an unsettling practice to many of the other Astartes Legions but Manus' word was law to the Tenth Legion and he was obsessed in insuring the strength among the X would never wane. This showed with the Gorgon often claiming a mixture of aspirants from either Medusa or from defeated worlds hailing from war-hungry human empires that defied the Imperium, a common method to bolster legionnaire numbers among the Legions. The children of such worlds often watched their worlds burn before being taken in by the Tenth to better learn that defiance of the Lord of Medusa and his Emperor would see their homes destroyed and people slaughtered.

Ferrus Manus' very nature did not make him well-loved among his brothers, though to Manus such brotherhood did not sustain itself on relation but of a shared battlefield. To shed blood with a fellow warrior was true kinship to the primarch but his very nature insured that he often stood alone. It was said that Manus was content with that. Only two of his brothers were Manus said to love - or at least respect. Those were Fulgrim of the Emperor's Children and Sanguinius of the Blood Angels. Fulgrim and Manus' friendship is often seen by many as the greatest bond among the primarchs, matched only by Horus and Sanguinius, and like that bond would also end with a bitter conclusion. Their friendship is only half-known as hearsay and rumour, and while the two forged a strong bond, their Legions did not. All that could be said is that the friendship began on Terra itself with the two meeting in the forges of Terra. There the Phoenician proposed a contest of forging which led to the birth of the _Fireblade_ and _Forgebreaker_. It was further said that Fulgrim saw appreciation in the Iron Hands' brute ways, even if he admittedly saw the tendency to tear one's limbs of as a step too far.

As for the Angel of Baal and the Gorgon of Medusa, it is said that such a relationship was born out of Sanguinius' natural charisma. That and the fact both primarchs were raised by ruthless clans and led campaigns against the monsters of their home. Few archivists argue that Sanguinius' sway over his brother was most likely due to some form of Chaos corruption as Manus seemed to loathe Horus despite the First Found having the aforementioned similarities that Sanguinius did. Then again, given the mercurial nature of the Tenth Primarch perhaps the answer resided in his forever shifting moods.

Manus was said to be content in his conquests until the time of Nikaea. It was here that it was said that Manus cast aside the Emperor's creed and doubt began to seep into his heart. He mistrusted the ways of psykers, an inherent dislike that was set into his very being. Coupled with the low rates of Librarians among the Iron Hands did indeed raise suspicion among the other Astartes Legions; Magnus himself mentioned he feared that his brother was killing them out of disgust. The truth, however, was far more mundane. It seemed the many augments from Medusa would kill the psykers when attached to the Librarians of the Tenth. This coupled with the fact that the Tenth produced few battle-psykers among their ranks led to many to believe that Manus' rank distaste was simply anger that such a blatant weakness existed in his Legion's genetic code.

And so, when it came to the Council of Nikaea, the Gorgon argued for the removal of Astartes psykers and the disbandment of the Thousand Sons. To be fair on the Tenth Primarch, unlike the likes of Leman, Manus did indeed produce some of his findings in regards to his sons' failure to produce psykers - though some of the data was indeed changed to save face - in regards to the argument. Mortarion was said to be surprised and annoyed by his Medusan brother as a corroboration of such data could have drowned out the bellows of Leman.

Still, the Emperor's decision passed and the Librarians were welcomed to the Legions. Manus glowered at such a decision but did little to stop it. Instead, he simply returned to the Crusade with a glowering anger, one that even his truest sons balked at. Furthermore, the scant few Librarians of the Iron Tenth began to die with worrying speed. Many seemed to spasm and die in the presence of their primarch, though such news was kept secret from the other Legions. As for the primarch himself, it was said that such deaths deeply concerned him though he would never reveal it.

 **Pandorax: A System of Death**

After Nikaea Manus, like many of his brothers, re-joined the Great Crusade. In truth, to Manus, little had changed as Horus was a competent enough Warmaster who left the Iron Hands to their own devices as he focused on repairing relations between the more hate-filled grudges that plagued the Astartes Legions. So the Iron Hands continued their brutal way of warfare as they cleaved through galaxy. That was until they were given orders to make way for the Pandorax System, where they would find nothing but damnation waiting for them.

It is heavily believed that Sanguinius warped an order from Horus himself to insure Manus' damnation as it was clear to the Lord of Chaos that the Gorgon and his sons had been marked by the Blood God. All they needed was to be forced into a situation not unlike Medusa, to be cornered by monsters and forced to once again given into the anger that was always bubbling beneath the surface of the Tenth Legion's psyche, particularly their primogenitor. And so as the Iron Hands made their way to Pandorax they were lost in a great warp storm that appeared without warning. Such was its violent nature that it killed many of the astropaths and Navigators while others ranted about the stars themselves bleeding before they committed suicide. Legionnaires of the Iron Tenth were deployed to ensure security and efficiency aboard the Legion's vessels as for a time it appeared that chaos would overwhelm the mortal crew.

The fleet was forced back into real-space and Manus was beside himself with anger as he saw his own fleet decimated. Hundreds of Astartes and tens of thousands of mortal crew members had been lost to the Sea of Souls and a great many ships lost in its perilous depths. Those that did survive were subject to the warp's unpredictable turbulence. Some were spat back to the edges of the Pandorax System such as the ship _Sisypheum_ while others were dragged further into the system. Many Iron Hand clan-officers argued that they should attempt to break free from warp storm enveloping the star system but the primarch's pride caused him to refuse such entreaties. The situation was made worse when those few remaining Librarians among the Iron Hands stated that the source of the warp-storm could be found upon the world in the system's tempestuous heart: Pythos.

* * *

 _"This is Ulrach Branthan of the_ Sisypheum _, do any of the Tenth Legion hear me? I repeat: are you still alive? Please respond!"_ \- Astropathic message of Ulrach Branthan, at the edge of the Pandorax System.

* * *

The moment the Iron Hands set foot upon Pythos it seemed the world was intent on killing them. Progress through the world was methodically slow as was the Iron Hands' way but it seemed Pythos had every intention of pushing them to their limits. Great saurian monsters soon attacked the Iron Hands and these beasts did not seem to slow or even feel pain as the bolter fire thudded into their hides. Worse still, many seemed to bear something of a resemblance to Asirnoth and its kin from the days of Medusa's nightmares - though these beasts were of flesh and blood rather than cold steel. Those Medusan-born Iron Hands - a slim majority of the Legion - were perturbed by such implication and Ferrus Manus himself was said to gaze with a reminiscent expression that seemed as if the primarch was staring at events from the long past.

Roots began to grow and great vines crushed Iron Hand legionnaires in traps, thorn-covered vines piercing plasteel and ceramite to drain the blood from ensnared legionnaires. Those few remaining Librarians of the Iron Hands that had been forced planet-side by Manus explicit orders, despite their warnings, found themselves cut off from the rest of the legion as the jungle grew around them. As Manus and his sons were forced back away from the monster-plant, the Librarians were left to defend themselves against the last of the saurian beasts, falling one by one. The psychic storm above began to rage to its full and the surviving battle-psykers left knew that this wasn't some random occurrence from the Sea of Souls but a deliberate trap by some great intelligence. It is said that they did attempt to contact and warn the rest of the Legion but Khorne had chosen his Legion and he would not be denied.

* * *

 _The undergrowth was thick with blood. The stench of cooked meat and rotting bodies choked the Librarians even though their great hoods should have protected them from that. Jelcheck was fighting for his life alongside his few remaining brothers. Their blades and axes were writhed in fire as they attempted to cut through the vegetation blocking their path. But their limbs were becoming slow, weak. As if the blood of the world was clotting their mechanical limbs and slowing their movements. A terrible weight hung above them all, as if some monstrous intelligence deigned to fixate its darkened gaze upon the last of the Librarians._

 _Jelcheck thought back to his years of service among the Iron Hands, how he was mocked and demeaned for the gifts that simply came naturally to him. How he had to watch Medusan technology simply exploding when attached to those fellow librarians, or worse. The memory of the great electric tendrils crushing the life out of his master came thick and fast to Jelcheck. He choked down a sob, had he not fought for the legion? Had he and his fellows not done their duty? And yet here they were dragged onto a world of hell by an uncaring father. Manus never cared. Jelcheck simply realised that now._

 _Well here they were the last of X's Librarians. If this was to be there burial ground then they would leave a scar on this world that would last for generations to come. The saurian beasts had now been replaced by something worse, things that seemed to defy reality itself. They fought like shadows, phasing in and out of the material in spurts of flame. Goat-like legs and bright crimson skin reminded Jelcheck of stories of Old Earth hells. Of pagan monsters and cursed deities whose religions were crushed by the Emperor during his conquest. It was not uncommon for psy-creatures to attempt to attack psykers but to do so with this much strength was impossible. The rent in reality that formed from the blood was impossible, the blood rising and coagulating to form gateways into the warp. It was impossible and yet it was happening._

 _The monsters came baying for their skulls while wielding blades made from sulphur and the screams of the damned. Jelcheck looked to see as his own brothers were likewise crying, only that their tears were that of blood. The Librarians let out a great psychic burst of energy to wipe away the horde in the hopes that this would shatter the barriers keeping them caged. While the horde was turned to ash and blood the barrier around their souls simply grew tighter, stronger._

 _The hordes temporarily diminished only for a great warp-born beast to rise. It was massive, imposing, red muscle and black, matted hair. Towering brass horns crowned its skull, while crooked teeth packed its great misshapen maw. In two talon claw-hands it clasped black axes emblazoned with dark eldritch runes and dripped aetheric energy as if it were spilt blood. It stomped a cloven hoof and flame erupted as it lowered its horns to charge._

 _ **"Witches!"** it bade, as it killed fifteen of them in the first scream of rage. " **I am the bane of witches and cowards! I am the death of heroes and wretches alike! I am Skarbrand and you will not defy the Blood God's will!"**_

 _This great nightmare-beast, this lord of war, would be their deaths. Jelcheck knew this. This would be their last stand and none would care for it nor remember them. They were the damned among the hated, alas who would care? And yet, the flicker of hope still beat in his chest. This would be their moment for all eternity, who are they would be made from this moment. This death._

 _And Jelcheck would not die quietly. "Come on then!"_

 _So Skarbrand, Chosen of Khorne, did._

* * *

The last of the Iron Hands Librarians died on Pythos, though none knew of their final battle or cared for it as their own brothers had greater concerns. The world of Pythos was some jungle mirror of Medusa and with each step Manus was said to grow further and further enraged. Without his Librarians to guard his soul, Manus was forced to rely on his tactics. But the sheer maddening nature of Pythos was driving the primarch to the brink of enraged despair. Meanwhile, above Pythos the remaining fleets petitioned their father to return to the relative safety of the ships rather than be torn apart by a rampant death-world.

Worse still, was that one of the Iron Hands' strike cruisers crashed into Pythos for reasons unknown. Some believe that its reactor failed in the warp storm or perhaps darker hands were at work. Whatever the reason the _Veritas Ferrum_ soon collided with Pythos, bathing Manus and his Morlocks in flames, killing even more. The blood and skulls of the dead and the dying strengthened the rift in the warp over Pythos. Hordes of Neverborn tore their way into reality and he could not take this any longer. With a bellow of rage he gave up what little of his sanity left to simply indulge in blood lust, something which passed on to his sons.

* * *

 _"No," muttered Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Tenth Legion, as he looked upon the encroaching nightmare-horde, their numbers innumerable and their black blades cutting open his sons. "No!"_

 _He was not weak, he would not be broken by this horde. But his body was ruined by countless wounds and wracked by a lifetime of pain. Even his arms ached. The skies above Pythos screamed in agony as the fires of the ship's death-throes writhed in the sky above. And the ground was slick with blood and crunched with skulls, the empty sockets staring up at him in judgement. The pain, the sweet pain burned through his skin._

 _Hatred boiled in his veins. Manus felt the weight of his entire existence weigh down on him, how his entire childhood was kept inside a pod. How he marched upon a nightmare-world, forever haunted by his weakness. All things seemed to blur for him and he felt a song stream through his bones. An ancient song. The first song of death and warfare. The horde of red-skinned daemons paused. Crimson eyes stared on before maws split into grins._

 _"I will kill you all!" he bellowed defiantly._

 _A lord among them stepped forward, clashing great axes together. **"Prove your worth, Gorgon of Khorne!"**_

* * *

Whatever happened on Pythos after that is left to legend and hearsay, the Inquisition itself is said to be internally frustrated by the lack of information on the Blood Gorgon's fall to Chaos. Worse still, any Iron Hand taken by the Inquisition for questioning inevitably ends up dead by their own hand, no matter what precautions taken. All that is left are second-hand accounts made by Ulrach Branthan, one of the few Iron Hands who were untouched by the Damnation of Pythos. It is said that the primarch left the Pandorax System in mood far more frayed than usual. For those Iron Hands that did not set foot upon Pythos it was a mood far darker atypical than that of known. Even First Captain Gabriel Santar was said to be off-put by his father's mood. Pythos had broken the Tenth Primarch utterly and he brooded upon his command throne for many days, until receiving a message from Sanguinius.

The Angel Fallen need to do little to gain the allegiance of Manus; he simply told him his own doubts and fears, the Emperor had made His sons to be weapons in a useless war. That He was a liar who would cast aside His own sons, and that Manus and his ideas of strength would have no place in the Imperium's future. Manus' rage, already hot from his experience on Pythos, turned explosive as he ranted over his ruined upbringing, Sanguinius was said to be cool in the face of such anger and told Manus of his own designs for the Imperium. How he had every intention of giving control of the Imperium back to those soldiers that had fought and bled for it. He told the Sage Monarch of Medusa that he and Sanguinius would not be alone in this venture, and so Manus pledged his Legion to Sanguinius' cause and joined the ranks of the Unholy Nine.

The first move was for Manus and his fellow traitor primarchs to purge their ranks of any and all that would not stand with them. And so, the Angel Fallen and his traitor brothers concocted a plan to remove the Throne-loyalists from their Legions, a swift and brutal extermination in a remote star system known as Isstvan.

 **The Heresy: Atrocity and Massacres**

Isstvan seemed the perfect grounds to begin the Heresy in the eyes of Sanguinius and his fallen brothers. It was a system far away with a rebellious history which would allow for the justification of assembling such vast army to bring it to heel. It seemed that the word of the Imperial Truth had failed on Isstvan as its people began to worship their ancient religion once again. Or at least that was what Sanguinius had claimed. Whatever the case, Sanguinius proposed that the Blood Angels, Iron Hands, Dark Angels and Imperial Fists should deal with this incursion; a political showing of the Imperium's might and to reinforce the relations between these Legions. Horus approved of such an action as he had his own plans to do such things with the likes of the Ultramarines and Word Bearers.

And so, four of the Legiones Astartes came to Isstvan in a force not seen since the Triumph. In fact, the sheer size of the attacking force did indeed raise concern as some deemed it egregious in the face of returning a minor world to compliance. But with Horus wishing to insure the bond between the Legions was stronger than ever and to insure perfect compliance from the Isstvanians, it was ignored. The plan was simple; each Legion would hunt down a specific objective or location while supporting the others. It had no need for complication or complex manoeuvres given the sheer size of the attacking force.

All know what happened next though; the opening moves of the Sanguinary Heresy. The thousands of sons sent to take Isstvan were those sons whose loyalty to the Imperium and Emperor superseded that to their gene-sires, those that would turn their backs on their Legions and deny the road to damnation. While battles against the rebels had begun Sanguinius made orders for the Life-Eater Virus to be fired upon rebel and Astartes alike. The virus worked with monstrous consequence eating through even the armour flesh of Astartes with ease. To further punctuate the death-blow, Sanguinius had a lance fired upon Isstvan's Choral City to ignite the air and burn any and all survivors. It is said that Manus begrudgingly watched on with disgust, disliking the fact that the execution was not done face-to-face.

Sanguinius had made a miscalculation however and his dark plan did not go without opposition. Many among those unchosen to be killed were still loyal. Chief among them was First Captain Gabriel Santar, who had grown increasingly concerned over his father's actions and motives as of late, discovered the treasonous plot. The few loyal brothers to be found among the traitors warned those on Isstvan III of what was coming, the sheer level of horror that was to be unleashed upon them. The loyalists - both among Isstvan and its skies above - knew that informing Terra of this heresy was all that mattered and so a desperate fight raged above as each loyal vessel tried to flee before being torn apart by their traitor kin. Only one vessel did; the _Sisypheum,_ an Iron Hand strike cruiser, piloted by Captain Ulrach Branthan. It was only thanks to his brave struggle that word of the Heresy even reached Terra.

* * *

 _Ulrach Branthan let out low rasps of pain as he clutched at his still bleeding side. Many aboard the_ Sisypheum _were forced to leave their injuries to be healed by their own physiology as the handful of Apothecaries aboard the vessel were overwhelmed patching and saving as many as they could. The proud warship had been scarred and ruined as it tried to escape free from the madness of Isstvan, the traitor blockade destroying all who attempted escape. All but one.. Bitter memories fought to overwhelm Ulrach but he forced them down: he must be like iron of his hands. The words seemed bitter now, all that his father taught was only a justification for his own murderous rage._

 _Monsters of the Empyrean had savaged the crew whilst in the warp, and Ulrach refused to acknowledge their claims as being 'daemons', they were ghouls and bedtime monsters. Ulrach couldn't deny their brutality though. But the pain that hit him most deeply of all was the warfare against his own brothers, he was not ready for that. Ulrach had fought against all manner of xenos and yet was nearly brought to tears when forced to fight his other Iron Hands. Worse still, were their claims of his betrayal as if they did not just murder so many good men. All slaughter like sheep on an altar of ambition._

 _Ulrach gazed upon the beauty of the Throneworld in the distance of the Sol System; Mankind's Cradle seemed to take away his breath as he looked upon, even more so now that he knew what was coming. It was unaware of the treachery baying for this world and for the blood of the innocent. Many taskforces travelled in the void around the world and Ulrach watched in amazement as an impossibly large behemoth of a warship in the colours of the Word Bearers approached the_ Sisypheum _._

 _'One of the Word Bearer Abyss-class warships,' Ulrach muttered in amazement, he knew the rumours of Lorgar's fleet but dismissed them as it was not in the Urizen's way to be so blatant in warfare. 'Perhaps all is not yet lost.'_

 _One of the few crewmen left aboard the vessel looked up at Ulrach, 'Sire, we are being hailed.'_

 _He nodded. 'Open the vox.'_

 _'Iron Hand vessel the_ Sisypheum _,' the terse voice spoke. Lorgar's sons were known for their baritone, stoic voice. Each carried an air of power of an orator born and this Astartes was no exception. 'This is Zardu Layak, Captain of the_ Trisagion _. Why are you here? Why are you wracked with battle-damage? What has happened to the rest of your fleet?'_

 _'My name is Ulrach Branthan, once of the Iron Hands, son of Lorgar, though now I am now sure who I am. All I can say is this, Zardu Layak, it is imperative that I speak with Praetorian Perturabo. I have news of heresy.'_

* * *

With the warning sent and at least one ship escaped, the Astartes on Isstvan III prepared for their final battle. Many of them had survived by finding bunkers, tunnels and settlements that were either fortified or deep enough to survive the bombardment. What they saw was something out of the darkest nightmare; billions of charred corpses, rotten and eaten away into nothing. The many Astartes turned their gazes skyward and roared in defiance, a challenge thrown to Sanguinius for his treacherous act.

What thoughts must have run through the heads of such warriors is something left only to the historians and philosophers. To be so deeply cut by betrayal, by their own fathers is something once-thought unthinkable. Yet these noble warriors had every intention of spitting in the face of the traitors. Sanguinius had taken from them their brotherhood, the one thing that the Master of Mankind allowed them to remind them of their past. And the Angel Fallen and all his get must pay for it. So they stood, neither as soldiers nor warriors but as reminders of a better time, and bellowed out oaths and promises to the traitors, uncaring whether they heard or not as the intention was made clear.

Sanguinius was said to ignore such blatant bait as he watched from above while his fellow traitor primarchs had a mixture of other reactions; the Lion seemed frustrated by the loyalist refusal to die, while Dorn - in a rare moment of mercy - saluted them, Manus however who's temper was still hot from the mockery he found at Pythos let out a bellow of rage. The betrayal of his own First Captain and the escape of one of his own ships led to the Tenth Primarch painfully aware of his own weakness again.

With a fury he descended upon Isstvan III, eager to kill his own with his silver hands and his Legion followed him with looks of murderous glee. When Sanguinius demanded that the Medusan Primarch explain himself the Lord of the Tenth pointed out that the viral bombardment had failed and now he would only trust more direct personal execution; a more certain way that the disloyal legionnaires had been killed. Sanguinius was irritated with Manus' folly but sent down half of the IX and the whole of both the First and the Seventh. Thousands of legionnaires were crushed in the first battle of the Heresy, many of them the undersupplied and outnumbered loyalists. How could they win? But to these warriors it was not about victory or defeat but keeping to their pride as Astartes, as the last true sons of the Unholy Nine. To this very day, their sacrifice is not forgotten nor the names of the heroes that died among them.

* * *

 _First Captain Gabriel Santar stared up in horror at his father as around him his brothers, his true brothers died. The Iron Hands that fought for the Gorgon were degraded and berserk, tearing apart limbs with their own hands and crushing skulls in a maddening hunger that did not seem to stop. Manus, however, was the worst among them. Veins pulsed across his pale sin and teeth gritted, scars that had not healed from Pythos still ran across his body and grafted skin fell apart showing the red muscle of the primarch's physiology. But Santar would not be a slave any longer, he would not turn his back on what it truly meant to be a Space Marine._

 _"Why?" his father asked, as his bloodshot eyes looked down on Santar as if he could not comprehend him. "You were my son. Why did you choose the path of weakness… of flesh?"_

 _Santar gave him the only answer that made sense. "For the Emperor."_

 _Manus moved at a speed that belied his great size picking up Santar in his Asirnoth-covered hands. Santar fought back, of course he fought back, but it was futile. Manus was a primarch and one that did not balk at pain. Not in this moment, and so he began to squeeze. Ceramite buckled and flesh broke, and those watching on couldn't help but cringe at such a death. For a few moments Manus squeezed and squeezed, the life-fluid of Santar dripping between his fingers and onto his person, drenching the primarch in his equerry's blood. And then he was finished, casting aside the still twitching corpse of First Captain Santar. He looked on for a few moments._

 _"Skulls for the Tenth!" He roared, not knowing where the words came from. "Blood for the Iron Hands!" And thus the Gorgon of the Emperor became the Blood Gorgon of Khorne._

* * *

Despite this early victory against the Imperium - and his first four Traitor Legions having blooded themselves against their loyalist kin - word had reached Terra about the Isstvan Atrocity. Soon after Horus returned from his meeting with the Interex, the knowledge of Chaos had made him aware of this new threat that was now attempting to bring down the Imperium. Quickly, Horus put together a force of seven Legions to bring Sanguinius and his fallen ilk to heel. As the Hammer of the Emperor came for the traitors, Sanguinius ordered that the fifth of Isstvan's worlds be made into a great fortress for the loyalists to break themselves upon, with the Iron Hands and Imperial Fists working together to build it. The traitors likewise knew that four among those sent by Horus had sworn their loyalty to Sanguinius.

When it came to the Isstvan V Dropsite Massacre, Manus and the Iron Hands could be found at the forefront. The traitorous Iron Tenth dug their heels in to bathe in loyalist blood and bolter fire. Manus broke skulls with his great hammer as his sons bled and died. Sanguinius was said to care little, seeing that as payment for Manus' foolishness in allowing his son, Ulrach, to flee. It was only when the Ultramarines, Salamanders, Raven Guard and White Scars joined the fray did the attention drawn away from the Iron Hands. As for Manus he searched out Fulgrim, an urge sunk in him to kill the Phoenician, and in the black sands of Isstvan V the two met each other.

* * *

 _He grinned as he pushed Fulgrim back; the Lord of the Third stumbled into the blood-soaked sand and rolled aside to avoid a blow from_ Forgebreaker _. The blow created a crater in the ground the size of a Rhino, lodging itself into the red-black mud. Fulgrim pressed the advantage, and_ Fireblade _sung out, sinking deep into Manus' side. Fulgrim pressed harder and harder drawing brackish fluid from the Gorgon but Manus laughed at the pain. The red veil was covering his vision again and words soon became forgotten to him. This rage had been with him his whole life but only now did it feel good to indulge it. What better battlefield to indulge than here and now._

 _Fulgrim looked up in disgust, only to receive a blow to the face from his once-dear brother, followed by another and another. Each was clinical in its precision; each blow had a demigod's strength behind it. Fulgrim retaliated, batting away another incoming fist, and lashed out with_ Fireblade _again._

 _But Manus caught the blade with his hand, the power sword scraping at the silver hands. "Blood for the Tenth!"_

 _Fulgrim's face broke with despair. "Brother, you can still be saved. Turn away from Sanguinius and Father will heal you. I know He can. Please do not make me do this. Do not make me kill you."_

 _For a moment it looked as Manus might have considered that offer, until Fulgrim made his threat of execution then all that was left was rage. One great hand wrapped itself around Fulgrim's throat and cast him aside, leaving_ Fireblade _lodged in his arm. Fulgrim grunted as he crashed next to_ Forgebreaker _._

 _"You cannot kill me, Fulgrim!" he swore, as he tore the humming power sword free and held it in his hands. "My sons will feast on your flesh before the day is out. Blood and Skulls for the Tenth!"_

 _Fulgrim stood, his hands wrapped around the haft of_ Forgebreaker _and a solemn expression upon his face. "For the Emperor."_

* * *

With the Massacre at an end, Manus looked upon the battlefield and found it to be good. Among the corpse-littered killing fields he spied Shadrak Meduson and promoted him to the rank of First Captain. Shadrak had a brutality and loyalty about him that Manus had already noted, and the bodies that Shadrak stood upon spoke volumes of his capacity to kill. Both the Alpha Legion and Death Guard had been laid low, their Legions scythed and Mortarion dead. The Emperor's Children had been reduced to a third of their pre-Heresy strength and it was whispered amongst the traitor camp that Alpharius had been captured, though this would later prove untrue. A major blow the traitors suffered in the midst of their overwhelming victory was that of Jaghatai Khan's death, as it fractured the White Scars, leaving a majority under the command of their Chief Stormseer Targutai Yesugei. And though Yesugei was an able commander, he was not the equal of his gene-sire and the death of the Warhawk was a blow to traitor morale.

Despite the Khagan's death, the traitors had secured a major strategic victory, crippling three Loyalist Legions, with a confirmed Loyalist Primarch slain. Already word was spreading that the Angel Fallen had risen the flag of rebellion and tens of thousands of worlds were flocking to his side. Only word of the World Eaters and Word Bearers marching upon Ultramar seemed to concern Sanguinius following the Dropsite Massacre and so dispatched Guilliman to deal with such a threat. But now the path had been cleared and the Heresy could begin in its earnest.

With the Blood Angels advancing on Terra, it was left to Manus to spread across the Imperium like a wildfire, Sanguinius could see the grip Khorne held on the Tenth Legion and saw it best to simply let them rampage until their fall became complete. The Iron Hands had lost their unflinching demeanour and fought like wild beasts. Bellowing like blood-crazed madmen of old as they fell upon worlds akin to avalanche of steel.

If Manus noticed the changes sinking deep into his sons, he ignored care for it. They instead charged down at the many fortress-worlds of the Iron Warriors - much to the ire of Dorn - in hopes that these worlds would prove a great challenge for them and purge any lingering weakness. Manus became obsessed with acquiring the skulls of his enemies and even erected thrones of skulls to sit upon, mimicking his patron god. It was clear to all that the Iron Hands were deteriorating as they fell further and further into degradation and bloodshed. In truth, even their own allies began to fear their control over their bloodlust as incidents of the Iron Tenth butchering regiments of Traitor Imperial Army were not uncommon. It fell to Sanguinius to assemble the last vestiges of integrity within the Iron Hands, and then he proceeded to give them fully to Khorne.

Sanguinius ordered Manus to heed his word and made it clear to his brother what would be lost if the Iron Hands fell into the battle-madness too deeply. Manus' ingenuity as a maker of weapons could not be denied and Sanguinius longed to harbour this now that he had both the material and the immaterial to dabble with. And so, a pact was struck with the God of War. A caste of Iron Hands would be allowed to retain their clarity of mind to forge greater weapons for the Arch-Betrayer and the Blood Gorgon's own madness would be receded. In exchange the Iron Hands gave themselves fully to Khorne, losing the black and silver of the old for a rusty brown and red - the colour of clotted blood. The Iron Fathers - or as some called them the Warp-Smiths - likewise felt the madness recede and they were quickly put to work by Sanguinius, crafting dangerous daemon-engines with the aid of their gene-sire.

Now Manus needed to organise his sons into something cohesive as the march to Terra came ever closer. With the aid of the Dark Mechanicum and the Iron Fathers, Manus was able to forge a great many weapons alongside Rogal Dorn. As for his sons, the primarch was able to wrench back control of them by having them exhaust themselves on a series of worlds in an act known as the March of Blood. The first Blood Crusade of its kind. It would be the first but certainly not the last.

* * *

 _The woman ran._

 _Shadrak laughed in amusement as she did so, she was the captain of this Iron World, a world manned by the Iron Warriors and their mortal allies. How could she run? Shadrak ran after her, the collar of Khorne around his neck burning into his flesh. The fangs that fought for space in his mouth dripped with blood and the First Captain half-ran and half-loped after her. Cowards were not allowed to leave. And that could not be allowed. The Warleader ran with a chainaxe in one hand and a power-sword in the other, slicing down mortals and breaking bones as he charged._

 _Debris shattered as the Slaughterfiend and Defiler tore apart the fallen Imperial Knight, and at the centre of it all was the Blood Gorgon, great hammer aloft as he urged his sons. Their dark father seemed more aware now; the battle-madness had lifted from him. Leaving something far darker and far greater in its wake, a sign of the Power of Khorne. This was an act of holy faith, of holy murder. The strong tear down the weak as was their due. The Iron Warriors were once strong but no longer. A champion of the Iron Warriors approached him, and Shadrak roared. They clashed briefly hammer and sword against the Iron Warriors' thunder-hammer but the duel did not last long._

 _Shadrak looked to the blood red sky that seemed to shine down on them, and he turned to see the primarch shatter the leg of another Imperial Knight before forcing his blood-stained silver arm into the cockpit, tearing out wires and broken bones. He looked for the woman who ran only to gaze downwards to the gore-drenched floor. A hearty laugh left the Warleader, he had trodden over her in his rampage. Good, this was a red day for all of Khorne's sons. The God of Blood was looking upon His chosen sons this day and blessing them with His rage. Shadrak felt the red beat in his hearts and threw his head back to roar:_

 _"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"_

 _And within the Court of Chaos, Khorne smiled for now they were his in both body and soul…_

* * *

Like the Dark Angels, the Iron Hands had now moved from traitor to Chaos Marines. The touch of corruption was blatant on their skin. The cybernetics that many of them had were now horrendously mutated and sickening, some even having veins as if they were real limbs. Many of the Iron Hands had the skulls of their victims forged into their armour. Worse still, some didn't even seem to have anything remotely human in them anymore. Some Iron Hands were just a heart beating in a suit of iron; an automaton of the Blood God's urges.

As far as the Tenth Primarch was concerned his sons had been saved from madness - or as well as could be allowed by Kharneth. Manus likewise began to bend to the whim of the Blood God and all the warp-touched could see that the primarch's own apotheosis could not be far. But before that could be reached the traitors had a greater goal: Terra. The final battle for the fate of the galaxy, where the Iron Hands would run rampant at the forefront.

 **Siege of Terra: Clash of Rage**

 _'From the burning heavens bathed in the blood of a million worlds afire and followed by the death-screams of a billion, billion souls came butchers and automatons. They marched in an infernal unison like some vile machine. Slaughter and carnage was their breath, and at their head bellowed a monstrous giant of silver hands, the holy hammer forged in a brother's love brought to ruin and hate for the daemon-god that claimed the blood-soaked Iron Tenth._ ' - Except taken from the Legacy of Heresy

* * *

As expected the Iron Hands were at the forefront of the Sanguinius' forces at the Siege. Manus had longed to test himself against the defences of Perturabo - much to Dorn's ire - and for his folly his sons bled. Perturabo had turned Terra into the great bastion of defence in the galaxy, and while Manus and his Iron Fathers were no longer imbued with the bloodlust of Khorne, his forces were not. Shadrak Meduson, First Captain of the Iron Hands, pushed his brothers to greater acts of bloodlust. Thanks only to the primarch's direct intervention - and enforcing his authority over his sons by killing at least seven captains - did the Iron Hands hold.

The Siege however began to drag and the powers that each Legion had sworn themselves too began to cause tensions among the ranks. The Iron Hands in particular were said to be scathing of the Raven Guard and the Dark Angels for their choice in Ruinous Power. Sanguinius was losing control of his vast horde of traitors and he knew it. If he could not make progress then the Nine Legions would bleed to death on the Imperial Palace's walls and his prize would be lost to him.

Luck would come to the impatient Iron Hands as the Sanguinius' hand was forced. The Dark Angels broke rank and began to attack the innocents of Terra, forcing Alpharius to action and drawing Horus likewise to the field to deal with the now-ascended Leman Russ. Sanguinius saw an opening, one he would have to take as the Word Bearers and World Eaters were now bearing down on him, freed from the Ruinstorm by the actions of the Night Lords. The confusion seemed to ensure the loyalists breaking but then the worst happened and the Twelfth and Seventeenth Legions arrived, supplemented by the Emperor's Children.

The Iron Hands were delighted in this development as they longed to clash blades with the gladiator-sons of Angron and even Manus was said to let out bloodthirsty bellows of delight at the sight of the attacking loyalists. As Corax moved to stop the three fleets he was unable to stop Fulgrim, Lorgar and Angron from making planet-fall. Terrified that he would lose his prize Sanguinius ordered Manus to join him to kill the Emperor, though the Blood Gorgon needed little convincing.

Perturabo was waiting for the Traitor Primarchs at the steps of the Imperial Palace but was quickly overwhelmed and left to be killed at the pleasure of Dorn - though Manus did indeed suffer wounds from the _Logos_ , though he paid them little mind. The only primarch left to defend the Emperor was Magnus and while the Red Cyclops' psyker powers were second only to the Emperor Himself; Vulkan, Sanguinius and Manus all had dark gifts that nullified such powers. And so, Sanguinius was able to quickly move past the Crimson King to combat and attempt to slay the Master of Mankind.

Before the killing blow could be struck, Lorgar and Angron intervene. Angron charged the Tenth Primarch and Manus roared in reply. He had been denied conflict with Fulgrim and so had to take his share of combat in a duel with the Red Angel. Their clash was brief but brutal, hammer clashed against the chain axes of the Gladiator King. The Blood Gorgon bellowed out roars to Khorne telling Angron that he too could have been among the ascended.

* * *

 _"I tasted the bite of slavery before, brother. Never again. Do me the pleasure of bleeding out and dying now, you high-riding bastard!"_ \- Quote attributed to Angron during the Siege of Terra, against his duel with Ferrus Manus, Lord of the Tenth.

* * *

If Angron's words meant anything to Manus none could say as their melee broke with news of Sanguinius' death. The traitors soon fell into disarray and ran, fleeing the vengeance of the now-emboldened loyalists. With the Night Lords waiting above Terra, the flight from the Throneworld was a hard pressed action and it was said that Manus and the Iron Hands were the last to flee, an act that pleased their dark patron greatly. Still with a bellow of thwarted rage, Ferrus Manus still ran with his Legion, into the Eye of Terror where justice for his actions could not follow him.

 **Post-Heresy: A War of Revenge**

With the Scouring underway, Manus ruled the Iron Hands within the Eye of Terror, and longed to end the many grudges he left in real-space. In particular was the fact he was denied a final concluding duel with his brother Fulgrim. He was well aware of Fulgrim's crusade of vengeance against the traitor forces that were still brazen enough to remain in real-space. Manus learned of Perturabo's own plans to build the Iron Cage around the Eye of Terror itself to refuse the traitors a second chance of reaving the Imperium. Manus was indignant at both this presumption and his desire to wage war against the Emperor's Children again. Frustrated at the lack of means to do so however, Manus' answer came in the form of Fabius Bile, the Clonelord of Emperor's Children. Fabius had in his possession the corpse of Horus and likewise wanted to crush Fulgrim. And so, a pact was struck for both Fabius' forces and the Iron Hands to join together and destroy Fulgrim, a decision that First Captain Shadrak disputed.

The plan revolved around a system known as Nuygemera. The world was to act as bait with Fabius Bile parading the corpse of Horus to break any faith to be found in the Imperium. Ferrus Manus and his Iron Hands quickly broke the system and bent it to their whim and it is said that there that Manus was granted the means to end Fulgrim once and for all as well as act as a rewards for the reaping of the many skulls of Nuygemera's innocents. The sheer monstrosity of using Horus' corpse to break the Imperium as well as the billion deaths at the hands of the Tenth Legion meant Ferrus Manus' ascension was all but assured. It fell to the Warp-Smiths to channel this energy for there were no sorcerers to be found among the Tenth, and using their constructed daemon-engines they found a way to directly channel the warp's energy into their primarch's body. The psychic acts of the Iron Hands massacre was embedded into Manus in a dangerous experiment. An experiment to the woe of the Imperium if it succeeded.

* * *

 _He heard it all, the sacrifice of an entire system. He felt their betrayal at the Imperium's failing and he drank deep from that fear-filled chalice. He and his sons descended upon them like wolves and there was none to protect them. He laughed and within the Sea of Souls the Courts of Chaos shuddered and the Blood God looked down with pride. Manus had never stopped fighting and he felt the power forced upon him seeking to crush him down to the smallest molecule. It would not, it could not. He was the Gorgon of Medusa, the Dragonslayer and the Giant. He was so many things and now he was something greater._

 _The blood sacrifice of a system ran into him, swirling about him like a crimson tornado. The Iron Hands watched on in horror and the Warp-Smiths with eager anticipation. Their father was finally given the prize that was deserved to him. Manus' form grew three times his height. Muscles bulged and cracked free of armour. Dark matted hair ran down his spine as ceramite fused into flesh turning into dark daemon wrought iron. The greatest change was his hands, the silver turned blood red and magma dripped from them. Ferrus Manus with eyes of darkest midnight gaze upon the world of Nuygemera and raised his daemon-hammer aloft. He roared to the skies, his face losing the last vestiges of humanity and become truly daemonic._

 _He bellowed in might to Khorne in the face of a universe that now trembled._

* * *

The Emperor's Children and the Sons of Horus soon arrived after the Blood Gorgon's ascension to reclaim the body of Horus and to settle the grudges of old. The Iron Hands were glad to clash blades not just with the pampered get of Fulgrim but with the Legion among Legions: the wolves of Horus. The War of Nuygemera was a foul thing, the Warp-Smiths had been allowed to indulge their craft fully as had Fabius which left the Emperor's Children fighting hordes of daemon-steel and mutant-flesh. Worse still, in their rage and anger the Emperor's Children had fallen for the trap and during the razing of Fabius' final facility, Manus corned Fulgrim and his Phoenix Guard, brother and monster duelling was again as they once did in the ash and dust of Isstvan V. Whoever won that duel none can say but it can be said that Manus lost something in that fight. His hands. Somehow Fulgrim's blade had mutilated the Legion's namesake which Manus prided himself upon. With that wound, Manus fled to Kronaimok in the Great Eye and remained there, obsessing over his hands. It was a weakness that was noticed not just by Shadrak but the other Legions too.

 **The Legion Wars: The Devastation**

* * *

Shadrak Meduson the Breaker, Warleader of Khorne

Shadrak Meduson, Lord of the Iron Hands Tenth Clan-Company and the Warleader of Khorne, is one of the most feared of all the Clan-Lords of the Iron Hands. Once known throughout the Imperium for being a reliable and cunning captain, Shadrak's greatest fault was his loyalty to his gene-sire above all. He loved his father to the point of delusion and even present during many of Manus' blind rages he still was willing to follow his father into the depths of hell itself - a wish he got in the jungles of Pythos. There Shadrak fought to the extreme as Khorne pushed his chosen sons to greater acts of bloodshed to prove their worth to him. After Pythos, it was said that Shadrak stood above his fellows by being one of the few Iron Hands to retain his sanity. That was until Isstvan.

It was said there and then as he followed Ferrus to kill his own brothers did the reality of the Heresy truly sink into Shadrak. Worse still, when Ulrach made his escape and cast aside his Legion for his loyalty to humanity, this seemed to be a vile impossibility to Shadrak who believed all sons of the primarchs must be loyal to their fathers. It was a universal law to him and to see Ulrach break that, to turn away from Manus drove the captain to kneel grieving among the skulls of his own brothers. It was said Shadrak made a pact with Khorne there and then. Khorne would take away the pain of his betrayal from him and take all of his despair and turn it into hate for Shadrak could not bear the burden of loyalty any longer. Khorne offered him a brass collar for him to wear, and Shadrak took it willingly. His remaining flesh pulsed with nightmarish power, his helm bonded to his skin and he swelled to monstrous size under the blessing of Khorne. His very aura encouraged violence and it was then Shadrak became the Warleader of Khorne, the chosen champion of the Blood God.

When the Iron Hands retreated to the Eye of Terror after the Horus Heresy, Shadrak decided not to follow the whims of his primarch and instead marched the slaughter-winds promised to him by Khorne. His frustrations at Manus' lack of action and focus upon the wounds he gained from Fulgrim went to boiling point at Drakissi where he ravaged not just the Dark Angels but his own brothers in turn. Since that day many of the clans owing allegiance to Shadrak or have fought with him in the past are often forced under the scrutiny of their fellows for their association. Shadrak has been spotted fighting with those chosen of Manus when the cause is suitably bloody enough but both son and father seem content to simply ignore the other's existence, though Manus has not forgotten his wayward son's abandonment.

For ten thousand years he had been a plight upon the Imperium and its heroes. It was Shadrak that crossed blades with Tarik Torgaddon and killed the Lord of the Mournival, though not before leaving his corpse stacked upon a mountain of skulls with _Worldbreaker_ laid across his lap. It is unknown if this was done in mockery or in respect. Shadrak has launched Blood Crusade after Blood Crusade, slaughtering Hive Worlds full of innocents and assaulting Fortress Worlds of various Loyalist Legions to his delight. Shadrak seemed to have some form of sixth sense as he can always been expected to be at the greatest or bloodiest battles. Some even say that there isn't any flesh left on Shadrak and that he is but a brain stem and spinal cord within his power armour kept alive only by his wrath. There may be some truth to that rumour as Shadrak never seems to tire or feel restraint as his soul now belongs to Khorne and Khorne alone.

In battle, Shadrak can be seen fighting with the nightmarish _Onyx Axe_. The daemon-axe was said to be one of the great weapons made during the contest between Manus and Fulgrim. Shadrak plundered the weapon during the Siege of Terra itself and re-forged in the hot magma of the Legion's new homeworld within the Eye of Terror, allowing a daemon to possess it to grant it more potency. It is a cursed weapon to reap a bloody bounty in the name of the Blood God.

* * *

Several decades after the War of Abominates cohesion within the Iron Hands was slowly dying. The Warp-Smiths had all gone their own way and only Shadrak could be said to be the only one that truly cared for the command of the Legion. It was during this time that the first of the Legion Wars began. It was an oddity that the Traitor Legions did not turn upon each other the moment they fled to the Eye of Terror but apparently self-restraint reined them in. Even the Traitor Legions were not fool enough to begin another devastating war so soon after the Heresy's costly failure. Raids and skirmishes had always been a constant in the Eye, that goes without saying, but more often or not kept to minor engagements between warbands owing allegiance to a Legion but never an entire Legion itself.

That changed when the Dark Angels began to raid Iron Hand warships, their cargo holds filled to the brim with newly acquired slaves, most would work till their deaths in the Legion's factories but some of the younger boys would become aspirant Iron Hands. This was to curb the Legion's rapidly declining numbers as the X could barely field twenty thousand Chaos Space Marines after the Scouring - something even the distant Manus took note of. The religious feud between Slaaneshi and Khornate loyalties was a primary motivator for this act. Whatever the case it mattered little in the end as the Blood Gorgon viewed this a personal attack and one orchestrated by the Imperium. That is most unlikely given that not even the Inquisition knew of what initiated the Legion Wars until much later but the delusion seemed enough to rouse the Blood Gorgon of the Tenth to combat. Thus began the War of Blood and Silk.

Such a war had never been seen in the Eye of Terror before; Legion had not dared attack Legion and instead kept to a tenuous alliance as not to bleed traitor lives on traitor lives. The Daemon-Primarchs knew better than to waste their sons' lives on such trivial matters, especially given that a recovering Imperium still existed. But the Gorgon of Khorne changed that, he fired the first shot that began to rage across the Eye of Terror as the Legions suddenly tore at each other like a pack of wolves. At Manus' command dozens of Iron Hand warbands gathered into a dangerous armada, alongside the aid of tens of millions of frenzied mutants, further aided by Dark Mechanicum forces as he hunted down his Slaaneshi brother to punish him for his transgressions. Many believe that this was the moment Shadrak decided to turn against his father, to see Manus fall into brooding alone to wage war against his brother when there was the Imperium out there as more blessed prey.

Daemon world after daemon world burned in the face of Manus' might and hosts of Khornate and Slaaneshi daemons flocked to each side of the conflict to aid their respective gods' champions. Other Legions tried to avoid the conflict but the sheer size of the conflict made this an impossible option. It acted as a key reminder of the failings of Chaos: that the Archenemy could indeed become its own worst enemy. This was further punctuated by the last battle of the War of Blood and Silk, upon a world of the Blood God's known as Drakissi. It was here that the Devastation occurred. Shadrak, enraged by the lack of violence to his design, miscommunicated orders from the primarch and even destroyed spoils taken from the Dark Angels. While not uncommon in the war the key difference was the timing: Shadrak did this during a discussion between the two Daemon-Primarchs, during one of the handful moments of parley.

Shardrak himself killed many of his own brothers to sow further confusion and chaos. The Lion looked upon the wounds that Manus had gained from Fulgrim and was said to laugh. The sound mocked the Blood Gorgon and so battle was joined upon Drakissi. None know the full details of such a battle but all can be said is this, both the Dark Angels and the Iron Hands never did fully recover from this war. As for Shadrak, he gained the title 'the Breaker' for the part he played within the Devastation and now treads his own path.

* * *

 _The Lion stood tall and proud as his face broke into a grin as he gazed at his brother. Around him Neverborn could be seen to be born in that grin and with a voice of a lover's snarl he spoke to Manus with a condescending air. " **Ferrus, Ferrus, Ferrus. You seem so very upset. Does it hurt to lose so much ag-"**_

 _Manus' fist broke his face before the mockery could finish, sending the Lion across the daemon-world. The Lion laid sprawled for a second, gazing at his hand as he wiped the golden ichor from his face. The hand then clenched and with a scream of pure murderous glee he tossed himself at Manus. Manus snarled, he was Khorne's son and Khorne's son would not fall to the puerile weakling of the Youngest God. Daemon-Primarch clashed against Daemon-Primarch, and around them two Legions went to war, the fragile truce shattered. Dark Angels danced and laughed as the blood-smiths of Manus broke spines and tore out skulls._

 _Millions of Neverborn from both gods were born and perished, attacking each other in their birth-throes. It was madness, pure and simple. Above the laughter of thirsting gods could be heard as they gazed down upon the warfare, enjoying the mindless slaughter. As Manus and the Lion fought, giving each other blows that would have felled even Greater Daemons, Manus found that he could focus on nothing. Just the Gospel of Murder that sung in his bones and even the art of language was lost on him in this moment as he screamed incoherently. Soon, an entire sea of blood was forged in the warfare. It seemed to never stop._

 _Even as both the Lion and the Blood Gorgon swung their killing blows; a great hammer caving in the skull of the Lion, even as the Lion's poisoned blade cut through the Blood Gorgon's armoured skin. From the Realm of Chaos, a great bellow of rage could be heard. The bloodbath ended and the Skull Lord was displeased. As he returned to Kronaimok, Manus swore that he would ensure that such a slaughter would begin again, only this time for eternity._

 _Meanwhile, upon the ruined daemon-world, life began anew. Monsters rose from the earth and all those Astartes killed in the massacre began to rise again. For the briefest second they were confused, only for the Iron Hands and the Dark Angels to look upon one another; the fury and hatred of their gods fuelling them, pushing aside any doubt or confusion and the bloodshed begins again. And again. And again._

 _Such was the nature of Drakassi, such was the desire of Khorne._

* * *

 **Homeworld**

* * *

Frater Thamatica, the Bloodstained

The Iron Fathers, or Warpsmiths, are a dangerous breed of heretic. They are lucid madmen among a Legion of berserkers and are made all the more terrifying for it. Few can contend with the amount of heretical knowledge they have made over the centuries since the Heresy. And the most well-known among this dreaded order would be Frater Thamatica, the Bloodstained. Raised to the station of Iron Father during the Heresy, Frater watched the Iron Hands fall into the madness before Manus made his pact and saved him and his fellow Iron Fathers' souls. Unlike many of his kind, Frater seems to shun the augmentations of steel in favour of flesh - a marked difference among the X.

That said the Bloodstained is still a great affront to everything the Adeptus Mechanicus holds sacred, the Warpsmith holds no reverence for the machine spirits which he employs. Like a Chaos warlord who forces his servants to submit under the lash, Frater tortures and twists the souls of weapons, vehicles, and any other machine to his desired ends. No device is sacred, no machine beyond his contempt. Like many Warpsmiths, Thamatica's greatest work is his never ending pursuit of the unholy tri-union of flesh, machine, and daemon. His greatest work is said to currently be underway, a great ancient warship found in the ebbs and flows of the warp. Few can say who has employed the Bloodstained and even less can find it, for Thamatica has ways of hiding his work from all prying eyes - even his fellow Warpsmiths.

* * *

As expected of the Traitor Legions, the Iron Hands - after their banishment to the Eye - have found a new homeworld to replace the loss of Medusa. As with all the daemon-worlds, this world seems cultivated to support the chosen Legion. Thousand Son psykers and Imperial-blessed seers of the Word Bearers have pierced the veil of the Warp to look upon this world: Kronaimok, World of Blood and Steel. With the Iron Hands claiming it, it was given Khorne's blessing, writhing into a daemon-world to the liking of the Blood God.

Prior to the Fall, Kronaimok was once a world of building for the Eldar to their smith-god Vaul, the closest comparison one could make is that it was the Eldar's equivalent to that of a forge-world, where the Eldar built their great soul-giants, of course when they degraded themselves to excess, the world was left untouched for what need of an army did the Eldar have. Ironic, or perhaps deliberate, that the Iron Hands took this world as their own. Now the world of Kronaimok is constantly covered in thick dark pollutant smoke, the constant churning of its industry. Many unaugmented humans often choke in the smoke and fog of Kronaimok and even those born on Kromaimok struggle in the poisoned air.

Great oceans of lava and rivers of blood run thick through the world as great islands of metal rise on these waves, massive dark factories and monstrous forges of twisted black iron can be seen. The Iron Hands are forever working on that dark world, as hordes of human slaves and mutants aid them in the work - often acting as bait and parts for the great daemon-engines. Warpsmiths often act as overseers; directing their brothers and their slaves as they construct their weapons, armour and monsters. Due to the lack of Apothecaries among the Tenth Legion a Dark Mechanicum sect known as the Savage Morticians have gained rights from Manus to have their own fief upon his own great forge: the Wrym-Spire. This great forge reaches higher than any other, and there Manus toils alongside his daemon-princes, and those few given the chance to work alongside their dark gene-sire.

* * *

Armageddon

Armageddon is one of the most industrious worlds to be found within the Imperium. This single world is said to fuel every bolter and lasgun ever fired in the Armageddon Sector since the days of the War of the Beast. This world is of key importance to the Imperium as its foundries fuel and arm thousands of Arm regiments. If it were to fall or its vast manufactorum were to be destroyed, then it spell a crippling blow to the Imperium. As such, it is no surprise that the Iron Hands launched their greatest Blood Crusade to take the world as their own for this very reason. This deadly Blood Crusade saw the Sixth Legion's sorcerers aid in this conflict. Rare for the Iron Hands to dabble in such blood-magic but the prize was seemingly worth this risk.

This clash saw the only time that Manus actively tried to enter real-space in ten thousand years. Something which terrified all present as the Tenth Primarch seemed content to stay in the Eye for millennia. It took an entire company of Grey Knights to storm Armageddon to neutralize the Blood Gorgon, at great cost to the Grey Knight. While the Daemon-Primarch did not manage to fully manifest in real-space he still reaped a bloody tally. Denied Armageddon and its industry, Manus' roar of anger spread across the entire Iron Hands Legion present on the world, to every clan-warband, causing them to massacre their Space Wolves allies and Grey Knights before being crushed by the Imperial fleet in orbit. Since that Blood Crusade, Armageddon has faced many Iron Hand clan-warbands attempting to claim the world in their father's name. In recent years, however, the Iron Hands have relented in such efforts due to the influx of Orks attacking the world on the orders of Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka; the Greatest Ork Warlord encountered since the cataclysmic War of the Beast, who's infamy is reaching that of the dreaded Beast of old.

* * *

 **Organisation**

Given the rampaging and viscous nature typical of Khorne's followers, the Tenth Legion is arguably one of the smaller Traitor Legions to be found within the Eye of Terror. Of course, they make up their lack of Astartes warriors with a variety of forces from Neverborn to Traitor Knights. As such many clan-warbands of the Iron Hands often equal to or exceed those of the other Unholy Nine; something which irks the prideful Slaanesh-loyal Dark Angels to no end.

The Legion Wars broke whatever unity that was left in the Iron Hands as the rampage spread among the Legions during the Inter-Legionnaire Wars, the battle for slaves and scraps broke out even among the Iron Hands, which was made worse by Khorne's influence. After the War of Blood and Silk in which Shadrak fractured his Legion, Manus retreated to his own whims, leaving his sons to their own designs. As such, the Iron Hands do not unite under a common banner without good reason, often it is simply a brotherhood of Warpsmiths working some great daemon-engine as the mad Warpsmiths are the only few among their Legion with something close to lucidity.

The hierarchy of the Iron Hands is a broken thing now but still possess the ghost of the Great Crusade. As expected, Ferrus Manus rules at the top as the Daemon-Primarch of the Tenth Legion though rarely does he interact with his sons, keeping to his work as he bitterly attempts to re-forge his hands. Despite being Khorne's chosen champion and an avatar of his rage, Manus has only left the Eye only twice. Once during the War of Abominates to duel - and presumably kill - Fulgrim as well as savage the rest of the Emperor's Children. And two for the First War of Armageddon, one in which he failed. Since those engagements the only times Manus leaves his daemonic-homeworld is to deal with his own daemon-brothers. Many wonder why Manus seems almost worried to return to the real-space after facing Fulgrim, as none know of the results of their duel. Perhaps like with the Lion and Russ, the spiritual meaning of whatever injury Fulgrim gave Manus was damaging enough that the Tenth Primarch still needs to heal from such a wound.

While they love their dark father, and many Iron Hands have toiled in the slave-forges alongside him, the Iron Hands know that Manus is bound by laws beyond their ken and as such cannot lead them as he once did. Following the Daemon-Primarch comes the Daemon-Princes of Khorne, though like their father they are bound to the Great Game. The many warbands of the Iron Hands still largely retain their clan-company and each follows the ancient and barbaric rituals of their world's past, now only in the name of Khorne. Among the most venerated of the Iron Hands are the Warpsmiths, the now changed Iron Fathers, who often create the many daemon-engines of the Iron Hands through blood and pacts with Neverborn.

 **Combat Doctrine**

 _"I feel a rage inside me. One that cannot be dismissed or ignored. No matter how much of my flesh become the vaunted black steel, as long as my heart beats, it beats with rage. Dark and true. The Imperium failed us and shackled us and damned us to hide their own weakness. My rage will never cease until it has fallen to blood and we are slaves no longer. Blood and Skulls for the Tenth! May these hands run forever with Blood!"_ \- Attributed to Kardan Stronos.

* * *

Given their constant and blood charging strategies, the Tenth Legion companies are often small in quantity; making up for a lack of size with brutal tenacity and being nearly impossible to put down. As given by the very nature of Khorne, the Iron Hands constantly prowl for new foes to break and kill. Their own traitor kin are often considered targets, something which worries many of the older commanders due to fears of the Inter-Legion Wars renewing again.

Despite their fall into bloodlust by the Blood God's influence the Tenth Legion still hold to their ingenuity with weaponry; daemon-engines and Traitor Legion Titans often can be found among the Iron Hands. It's common for the Dark Mechanicum and Iron Hands to join together and their Blood Crusades usually target Forge-Worlds or worlds associated with the Iron Warriors, often falling prey to being looted and destroyed. Due to their fell patronage it is easy to view the Iron Hands as charging berserkers but as stated above, they have managed to keep a keen grasp of themselves making them dangerous foes to fight. Intellect is viewed as a strong trait of a leader of the Iron Hands for it allows for greater battle and greater battle allows for greater bloodshed.

As such due to their connections an Iron Hand warbands attack often comes brutal and violently. A tide of metal rushing down to crush their foes with maximum impunity; as traitor skitarii, cast-out Knights and fallen Titans often fight alongside the Neverborn of Khorne and their fallen Astartes allies. Worse still for the Imperium is when a great Lord of Khorne manages to rally several Iron Hand warbands together along with substantial Dark Mechanicum assistance and then launch a Blood Crusade. Blood Crusades are often focused on one specific goal; taking slaves, gaining technology or creating a foothold in real-space. As of late many of the Blood Crusades launched seem to follow a similar pattern, attacking and sacking Iron Warrior-controlled world, slowly but surely encircling Olympia itself.

* * *

Kardan Stronos, Bloody-King of Garrsak

The young are often dismissed by the Traitor Legions. These 'thin-bloods' know nothing of the Long War; the pains that drove each of the Unholy Nine into the arms of Chaos, and therefore know nothing of the true nature of the traitors' rage towards the Imperium. It is rare for such young-bloods to make themselves notorious as many sport ambitions that outweigh their capacity to command and slaughter. Worse still is that this disdain runs thick and true within the Iron Hands, and yet among them one Lord of Chaos of relative youth has made a name for himself; Kardan Stronos, the Bloody-King of Clan Garrsak.

Kardan Stronos has a rare pedigree among the Iron Hands; both for his clarity upon the field of battle, and his love of an overwhelming amount of firepower. There is not greater joy for him then to watch the looks of despair upon his foes faces as he shreds them to pieces with his daemonwrought cannon fire. Due to this, Kardan has already amassed a dangerous following among his own Iron Hands and gained connections with the Dark Mechanicum with the many weapons and supplies he has given them. Despite his love of firepower, Kardan is never one to shy away from close combat against a foe of his calibre, and in his duel with Varlag of the World Eaters, Kardan has earned the eternal enmity of the XII - something Clan Garrsak has delighted in for the World Eaters are renowned for their close combat prowess. Kardan Stronos has since built up a dangerous powerbase among the Iron Hands, and with each victory a new piece of flesh is removed. There is very little of the man Stronos was now remaining, all that is left for him to replace is his skull and torso, that which contains his dark hearts that forever beat to the drums of Khorne.

* * *

 **Beliefs**

* * *

 _"Each beat against the anvil echoes the war of drums._

 _Each limb lost and given to darkened steel is a fresh tool to rend._

 _Each roar of battle is another victory won._

 _Never cease the toil or the war._

 _For the Flesh is Weak and Our Hands must run red with Blood."_ \- the Oath of the Warpsmiths, or the Iron Fathers of the Tenth.

* * *

The Iron Hands had fully given themselves to Khorne, Lord of Blood and Skulls, the Chaos God of War. Their corruption and devotion to Khorne runs deep and thick into the souls of all the Iron Hands; they seek to venerate him through both battle, and through the creation of weapons that can spread further war in his dark name. The Iron Hands act as some damned hybrid of both the ideas of the Long Night and the Emperor's future - twisted to the design of Khorne however. They live by tribal beliefs in revering Khorne, sacrifices and duels for his glory are common among them. And yet, they keep deep connections with the Dark Mechanicum and remain great builders of Chaos worlds - many of the best fortress among the Eye of Terror can be attributed to those who gained the aid of the Iron Hands.

Keeping to their words during the Great Crusade, the Iron Hands ultimately see the flesh is weak and seek to replace this weakness with iron and metal. Each Iron Hand has a variety of cybernetic augmentation to be seen; hellish optics, dark limbs of brutal iron or at the most extreme an entire body of iron. The Iron Hands believe that steel is far superior to flesh, and so by becoming like iron they can continue their lives of slaughter for the God of Blood. As such the standing of an Iron Hand can be told by how much of their bodies have been replaced by damnable augmentations; great Lords of the Iron Hands are often many-limbed monsters of iron, hellfire bellowing from within as they challenge the dogs of the False Emperor to war.

As Khorne is their dark patron, the Iron Hands despise the Dark Angels for being of Slaanesh's get. The Iron Hands look upon their pampered cousins as simpering weaklings that know not how to toil in the dirt and blood. The Dark Angels are better suited to hunting down weak old women and pathetic whelps, and that all those that serve Slaanesh know nothing of how to fight a true war. This hatred has only grown in the years since the War of Blood and Silk with many Iron Hands wishing to hunt down the Dark Angels for having the audacity for even trying to confront their betters. For with each death of Slaanesh chosen he fails at the Great Game, and in doing so Khorne rises ascendant.

* * *

Warpsmiths, Workers of Destruction

Before their fall to darkness at the behest of the God of Murder, the Warpsmiths of the Tenth went by the name Iron Fathers - a name that is still used by the the Iron Hands. Like many of the Legions they were a secular group composed of various Astartes of varying occupations; Techmarines, Apothecaries, Captains and so forth. Manus used these groups to organise new ways of warfare and often sought their advice - though often loathed to hear, to the point that it was not uncommon for one of them to die at Manus' own hands if the Blood Gorgon was displeased with their answer.

When Khorne's bloodlust began to infest the Legion and turn them all into mad berserkers , it was the knowledge of the Iron Fathers that Sanguinius was most keen on sparing such a grisly fate. As such when the pact was struck and the mind of Manus was spared in return for his sons, Khorne likewise chose to spare the Iron Fathers of the battle-madness too. It seemed the Blood God had a similar interest in them to the Angel Fallen. The pact ensured that the Iron Fathers were twisted by visions of the warp, forbidden and heretical knowledge seeped into their skull driving them to darkness and leading to them gaining a new name: the Warpsmiths.

These lords of murder are master of all manner of crafting and demonology; they are both crafters of the many weapons to be found in the Eye and warlords in their own might. Many of the great daemon-engines such as the Lord of Skulls and Slaughterfiends were crafted by the Warpsmiths in the throes of the madness. Many lord over their own world of metal with the aid of the Dark Mechanicum, forging weapons for Chaos Lords in payment of daemons, souls and slaves as more meat to be used in their diabolical creations. It is a good thing that they are solitary creatures only often coming together to aid of a great warlord or to create some heretical weapon.

In battle, the Warpsmiths are dangerous creatures to face on the field. Many of them are veterans of the Heresy and lack the blood-madness that clouds their kin. Often they are surrounded by the iron-beasts that they forge and it is not uncommon to see them ride into battle upon such daemon-engines like some Old Earth warlord. Many hunt down vaunted Imperial vehicles to drag back to their ships as plunder, to be warped and broken by the blood of their former crew. To be broken into a more pleasing shape for the glory of Khorne and for the glory of the Tenth Legion.

* * *

 **Recruitment and Geneseed**

Khorne's chosen probably have the most difficult task in creating a way to keep their Legion alive, as the many wars and their bloodthirsty nature has numerically diminished the Tenth Legion, almost bringing them to their knees after the War of Blood and Silk. Apothecaries among the Tenth are effectively a dead trade, many of them turning to other forms of warp-craft and disdaining this work. As such, the care for gene-seed seemed to be discarded among Khorne's legion and slowly the Iron Hands began to lose their size, something which worried Manus enough to actually get involved with the matter.

Luck would come to the Tenth Legion in the form of their Dark Mechanicum allies when a sect known as the Savage Morticians made themselves known. This group had once worked with the foul Clonelord himself, and Fabius was rumoured to have caused their fall, and they specialised in the matters of biology. They desired safety and the protection of the Eye alongside Manus' patronage and in return would cultivate and expand the Tenth Legion, saving it from extinction. Manus granted the request and allowed the Savage Morticians a place among his own great forge, allowing the fallen tech-priests to begin their grisly work.

Choosing slaves taken from Iron Hand raids or children found among the slaves of the Iron Hands, the Savage Morticians began their work and quickly and efficiently harvested the gene-seed of dead Iron Hands given to them from Manus. Impressed with the speed of this Dark Mechanicum sect and wanting to ensure that the Iron Hands never reach such a dangerous brink again, Manus - knowing his sons lack of care - decided to work with the Savage Morticians to insure that the stock of gene-seed is constant and safe. Construction began on a unique daemon-engine, one that would keep the gene-seed safe and replenishing it from the blood of the slain itself: the Heart of Blood.

The Heart of Blood is fuelled by a great Neverborn of Khorne, one that Manus himself hunted down and bound to his will, using its essence to act as fuel for the great engine. The foul thing is reported to look like a monstrous many limbed spider-beast. The thing is kept chained within Manus' forge while the Savage Morticians tend to the damned thing, feeding it blood, biomass, and recovered gene-seed - whether whole or undamaged - as so to secrete new gene-seed to use. As disgusting as it is brilliant, none outside the Tenth Legion know of its existence and as such the Iron Hands have prospered from its mad genius; as it acts as both a guardian and a mother to the new Legion of Khorne's chosen.

 **Battle-Cry**

Iron Hands are marauders through and through. Warfare is the stage on which they reap skulls, blood and souls for their dark master and damned gene-sire. Discretion is not a trait known among the Khornate and that is readily apparent in the Iron Hands as they wage their many wars. They roar to their foes to test the waters of courage, and those who run are very much damned for a bloody end. Due to their augmentations done to their bodies, many Iron Hands will simply let out a vox-roar like that of some predator-beast. Often in combat the cries of: _"Blood for the Blood God and Skulls for the Skull Throne!"_ can be heard, or perhaps _"Praise to Khorne! May these hands run forever with blood!"_ When faced with the Emperor's Children cries of: _"Death to the Phoenician!"_ and _"Weakness becomes you!"_ will often be heard.

* * *

The Citadel of Blood _was not a warship nor a space hulk but some nightmarish fusion between the two. It took a madman to create such a vast cosmic forge-ship and indeed a madman ran it. The Citadel is home to hundreds of thousands of souls, slaves to Astartes. Many of them would live and die inside its walls. Clans of degenerates infested its very being, worshipping the Astartes taskmasters as gods of cruelty, hating and revering them in equal measure. They knew the secrets of the Citadel, of where to tread in safety and where death treads. Half-machine and half-daemon monsters sloped about the corridors always hungry and looking for food. Only a fool would attack the sanctuary of the Warpsmith Frater. Only a fool would challenge the Bloodstained._

 _Upon the command centre of the great forge-ship he could be seen. Rusted blood red armour clad his frame, while a cloak of mechadendrites ran down his spine - and some were even fastened to his spine - while a helm half-snarling and half-contemplating could be seen worn upon his scarred and misshapen skull. The Bloodstained had suffered many injuries over the long injuries of his life but a Warpsmith was nothing if not adaptable. He was unarmed for why would he need to be in the safety of his throne-room._

 _'Have you met my exact specifications, Warpsmith?' Asked another voice within the Throneroom, one as deep as the magma of Kronaimok and made deeper still by the baritone boom of a Dreadnought._

 _Frater look upon the great Contemptor-Dreadnought of Cassian Dracos, Master of the Black Legion, the Ashen Lord. The fact that the Dreadnought still clung to sanity so long after the Heresy spoke volumes of his self-control and self-discipline. The Dreadnought's form was rusted-green to black and covered in sigils to the Ruinous Powers. One hand was a great power claw and the other dangerous cannon. The red eyes of his helm-head pierced the dark as the Dreadnought looked down upon the meagre form of Frater._

 _'It has been done. The price has been paid. You have your flagship.' Frater responded as he gestured to one of the screens. Cassian followed the gesture and let out a low growl of satisfaction when he looked upon his prize. The ultimate warship to crush Fabius Bile's misbegotten clone of Vulkan, the ultimate warship to burn through the Iron Cages. A ship to galvanize the Unholy Nine to action and tear down the Imperium of old at last._

 _'And my second request?' the Dreadnought asked._

 _Frater would have raised an eyebrow behind his helm if he had any eyebrows left. 'Are you sure you wish to take such a risk? To bond you to such a warship would make you-'_

 _'A god.' finished Cassian, his voice hardened by bitter regret and a sense of betrayal. 'Like our failed fathers before us. Follow my terms, Bloodstained, and attach me to my vessel. The Lord of the Black Legion and_ the Planet-Killer _will be one in the same.'_

 _Frater nodded, who was he to care for the consequences. He had been paid his price. 'As you wish.'_

* * *

A/M: Happy New Year (or near enough)! How about a new chapter to start the year of. I really enjoyed writing this one as I've always lent towards Khorne when it comes to favourite Chaos God (Or Nurgle depending on my mood). A lot of inspiration for the Iron Hands came from the descriptions of the Khorne horde within Josh Reynolds' Gotrek and Felix novel: The Road of Skulls. I wanted to avoid the typically bland bloodlust of Khornates so aimed for a more mixture of bloodlust and intelligence - if only to further the blood lust. As always big thanks to Tanner for his help as editor, and please feel free to review!

Until next time.


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